


Ripples in Tandem

by Elialys



Category: Fringe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elialys/pseuds/Elialys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Altlivia had managed to cross over at the end of '6:02AM EST? Season 3 finale AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

She was so fucked.

Hadn't she been running for her life right now, Olivia might have taken a moment to reflect on how fitting this was. In the matter of universal wars and universe-crossing, nothing ever seemed to go smoothly for her; that included everything, from trying to protect her ass while on mission, to delivering full term babies after ten weeks of gestation on the floor of a Chinese shop.

Some would say she simply had bad luck. Others would disagree and point out the fact that she had brought back luck upon herself. Something about karma, and how everything you did eventually came back at you like a boomerang.

Or like bullets, at the moment.

As she ducked another flurry of fire, taking a sharp turn into another damp tunnel, she couldn't concentrate much on the  _hows_  and  _whys_  of what had led her here in the first place, needing to make it out of this universe alive. Her feet were beating the ground just as furiously as her heart was thumping blood against her ears; despite this double echo, the sound of the guards' hurried footsteps and shouts were still too close for comfort.

Somehow managing to speed up, her fingers started to play with the device she had stolen from Brandon a few minutes ago, and she suddenly had to fight the urge to laugh –a very nervous kind of laugh. She had  _no_  idea what she was doing, and she wasn't only referring to how she was manipulating a piece of technology that had the power to make her molecules explode or something. She had officially become a traitor, a traitor who was now trying to go back to the 'enemy side' she had willing infiltrated and possibly condemned six months ago.

And apparently, the Secretary hadn't been informed yet, or he surely would have told his squad  _not_  to kill the mother of his grandchild.

She hurriedly forced that thought away as she practically dove into another passage, bullets flying way too close to her head. Thinking about her son right now was not helping at all. Wouldn't it be ironic and perfect, though, if she died stupidly in that stinky basement before she could have a chance to redeem herself –if that was what she was trying to do, leaving her child deprived of both his parents before he was even a month old?

But she had to try. She had to  _try_. This madness had to stop before a universe really ended up destroyed, because in all honesty, she wasn't convinced theirs would be the spared one. Knowing what she knew, the opposite side wouldn't go without a fight, and they were more resourceful than the Secretary depicted them to be.

' _Monsters in our skin', my ass._

The truth was, she needed Peter Bishop, which surely was the most laughable aspect of it all.

In her hands, the reddening device started to hum and vibrate, warming up incredibly fast, while the guards kept on getting closer and closer. She made a quick turn right.

Dead end.

"Fuck!" she cursed angrily, because being angry was easier and safer than being scared; the burning sensation between her fingers increased, becoming painful now, and she was pretty sure she wasn't imagining the way the air itself seemed to be quivering all around her, along with every cell in her body.

"C'mon," she muttered, starting to feel overwhelmed by the unpleasant tingling sensation she had felt a few months ago in the back of a truck, the vibrating air now refusing to enter her lungs.

For a second there, she almost thought luck might be on her side, for once.

Or maybe not.

Pain erupted in her arm just before another kind of pain started to spread heatedly throughout her entire being, and she knew she had been hit. It made sense.

She was suspended between two sides now, literally and figuratively.

It was only logical for luck to be just as indecisive.


	2. Chapter One -  Shattered Glass

**Chapter One - Shattered Glass**

...

_Liv_

...

She had only been in the presence of her son for a few minutes when Lauren, his nanny, declared he had 'an old soul'.

Olivia's first thought on the matter was that she was full of it.

Obviously, she was only saying this because she was under the impression that every new mother wanted to hear that kind of stuff  _–'He's the most gorgeous baby I have ever seen!' 'He's definitely a smart one!' 'He's got an old soul!_ ', maybe thinking it would increase her chances of being chosen over other potential nannies.

Except that in Olivia's case, a mere few days after her slightly traumatic birth experience, she hadn't really known what new mothers usually wanted to hear about their child, beside ' _He made it'_.

Who was she kidding? She still had no clue what she was doing most of the time.

Plus, when it became urgent for her to hire a nanny so she could go back to work, there hadn't exactly been a lot of competition for Lauren. The Secretary had of course obliged her with a long list of names -only the best caregivers in the state, but she had gone with her mother's recommendation instead, choosing to meet with that woman from her Book Club who, according to the glowing grandmother, was  _gifted_.

So maybe Henry had an old soul. Once again, how very ironic, considering how  _fast_  he had come to be.

She couldn't deny the fact that he was an intense baby, so quiet and curious at times, and so very loud and temperamental at others. Who could blame him, though? She hadn't had what you could call a peaceful pregnancy; even before the whole 'accelerated growth 'shenanigan, she had crossed universes with him in her womb, although he hadn't been more than a patch of cells at the time.

He had become so much more.

Olivia might not know much about motherhood, she still knew most three weeks old babies weren't supposed to be smiling already. And yet, her beautiful son had surprised her more than once with the softest of smile as she was changing him, or simply rocking him. She considered herself to be a tough gal, but she would be damned if her entire body and soul didn't melt at the sight of him smiling.

To be loved so unconditionally by such an innocent being was baffling. Not to mention unsettling, startling and overwhelming.

She had been loved by men before, more often than she had loved back, but this one little man had stolen her heart with one look and one cry, and was breaking all of her defenses so seamlessly every time he smiled. It went against all logic.

At times, she still got lightheaded trying to take in the enormity of what happened to her, the abduction and the birth, her life changing so drastically within a day. But ultimately, when she was alone with him in the quiet bubble that night created for them, she fed on the sight and feel of him as eagerly as he fed on his bottle, thinking she didn't deserve this miracle, didn't deserve his love.

Somewhere in the distance, Olivia heard her son cry, and she opened her eyes.

She immediately tried to sit up on what she thought must be her bed. But the darkness surrounding her didn't have the familiar shadowy shapes of her bedroom, that much become obvious right before pain took over everything else, caused by her sudden movements.

She had barely managed to raise her head, and it fell back heavily into what was apparently a puddle of nasty water, in which half her face had been basking for an unknown amount of time. She was unable to hold back a groan. On top of the sizzling pain she was now feeling in what seemed to be every inch of her, she fought hard to smother the immediate anguish that followed, focusing on her breathing.

The pain was of a very nasty kind, but it at least forced her brain to wake up rapidly. Panicking would lead her nowhere, so she tried thinking rationally instead, breathing in, breathing out, again and again, until she regained some control over her emotions.

She was still obviously in the tunnels carved under the Statue of Liberty, and that fact alone meant she had succeeded in crossing over; otherwise, she would surely be rotting in prison right now. She had no idea how long she had been out.

 _Too long_ , she thought, feeling a different kind of pain in her left arm, more acute in one place, the rest of her limb almost numb. She had to have lost an important amount of blood, she recognized the dizziness…and yet it felt different.

Worse.

She remembered the last time she had crossed over, all the medicines and care she was given immediately upon returning -although she had been too out of it to really understand what was happening to her.

This, this was not good, at all.

The continuous ache and the sensation of being disconnected from the world brought her back to that night, less than a month ago, when she had been convinced she was about to die. She thought of Henry again, of Lincoln promising her he would save him no matter what, and she knew her son would be safe with him…

…no way she was going to let herself bleed to death here, though, or wait for her body to fall apart or something, not when she had managed to make it this far. Now that she had made it  _here_ , she had to try and contact Peter.

She highly doubted she would find a phone nearby.

She braced herself against the pain as she pushed herself up on her good arm, her vision managing to darken even more as dots exploded in front of her eyes, and she swallowed back another grunt. She kept on going, though, forcing her legs to flex and tense and to maintain her on her feet as she arose.

The nausea that washed over her as soon as she was somewhat upright didn't help. Keeping her panic at bay was becoming difficult, considering something was obviously wrong with her; her entire body shook, as if in shock. She had a nagging feeling that it  _was_ , on more than one level.

She focused on her feet, focused on making them move, making her walk, trying to remember the way out, hoping those tunnels where identical to the ones on the other side. She knew she needed help, but somehow doubted she would find it in the form of Peter Bishop.

What would she tell him anyway, if by some miracle, she found her way out and happened to stumble upon a cell-phone?

" _Hi, remember me? I know we didn't exactly part on good terms, but if you could put Walter on the phone, I have a few questions for him about molecular instability and stuff."_

Right. She could almost see the ominous smile that would tug at the corners of his mouth, crossing his arms and watching her suffer some more. And let's not forget the high probability of her –pissed off- alternate standing nearby as he did so.

Cataloging the list of people she had come in contact with while on Mission here, and mentally crossing out the names of those who were unlikely to help her, it didn't take her long to set her mind on the one person she would describe as 'neutral' as well as resourceful.

She had no idea how long she roamed in the dark; she had nothing to keep track of time, nothing except the feel of her strength slipping out of her with every drop of blood that kept on dripping out of her bullet wound, in spite of the lousy tourniquet she had put around her arm with her belt.

Somehow, she managed to find a way out. Or at least a way up, in the form of stairs hidden behind a door that was left miraculously unlocked. The sight of  _light_  alone was a relief, after wandering in those dark, stinky tunnels for too long.

As everything got sharper in the light, everything also became blurrier, her mind as foggy as her body was numb. She kept on walking and turning corners in those bright corridors, mostly slumped against the wall now, leaving a trail of blood on it as she went, not really sure what she was looking for, or where she was.

Against all hope, there was someone else in the building at this late hour.

As she entered a different hallway, she made out the shape of a woman in the distance…mopping the floors, maybe? Now, Olivia never willingly asked for help, but swallowing back her pride was easier when she didn't have a choice, and was possibly dying.

It had been happening a little too often to her liking, lately, but now was not the time to reflect on that either.

"Hey…" she called out, her voice weak and hoarse, sounding more like a grunt than an actual word; it quickly morphed into a cough that made her insides throb in pain.

The woman didn't turn around. Fighting against her cough and squinting her eyes, Olivia pushed herself forward, realizing she hadn't been heard because the cleaning lady was listening to music. Nothing would be easy for her tonight.

She tried to keep on moving, but oxygen seemed to be having a hard time going all the way up to her brain now; the whole world started spinning, forcing her back against the wall, and before long, she was crumpling quite gracelessly and loudly onto the floor.

The other woman simply kept on going with her mopping.

"You gotta be kidding me…" Liv muttered weakly, her breathing labored, her good hand now roaming her sides, looking for the useless device she had tucked in her pants.

When her fingers found it, she took it out and squinted again, aiming. She might be mostly out of it, she had won an Olympic gold medal, for Christ's Sake. And so she threw, with what was left her strength…and hit, causing the woman to squeal in surprise more than in pain –she hadn't thrown it that hard.

She turned around abruptly, earphones popping out of her ears, and the shock on her face only worsened when her eyes settled on Olivia's crumpled form. Her mouth opened and hung a bit, as if she was trying to say something, but nothing came out.

"You got a phone?" Olivia asked her from the ground, her hand now pressed to her chest, face distorted in pain.

In response, the other woman finally closed her mouth, her eyes as well, before she started muttering to herself. "This isn't real…this isn't real…I knew I should have waited before going back to night-shift, I overworked myself again I should have waited this isn't real this-"

"Hey!" Olivia called her out again, more forcefully, causing another coughing fit to start. When she managed to get it under control enough to look back up, she was glad to see that her potential rescuer hadn't run away. "I can assure you I'm very real. Now as you can see, I need help. Mostly, I need a phone right now."

The woman just stared at her, still incredibly pale and motionless. And then she whispered: "I called him, you know. I told him what you asked me to say."

"That's…great," Olivia grunted, thinking about how fitting this was, for her to find the only deranged cleaning lady on the Island to help her. She couldn't exactly afford to be judgmental or picky at the moment, though. "So you do have a phone. I would stop dripping blood all over your floor faster if you could just…give it to me for a minute." No reaction. "Please? I'm really not doing so well."

That was quite the understatement.

Finally, the woman moved, and Olivia almost sighed in relief when she realized she was moving toward her, not away, a hand in the pocket of her uniform.

"Do you want me to call Peter again?" she asked feebly, almost warily, and Olivia's loud breathing hitched in shock.

"What?" She whispered.

"Do you want me to call Peter again?" she repeated. "I…I still have his number saved…my doctor said I had a hallucination caused by exhaustion, and I  _know_  people don't simply disappear into thin air, but you did and I…I didn't dream it, right? Am I crazy?"

Olivia stared at that poor, lost woman's face, understanding slowly blooming in her distressed mind. To both their surprise, she started chuckling then, closing her eyes because laughing was just as painful as anything else.

"So you're the one who busted my ass," she managed to say between two chuckles, sounding a bit insane herself, now. " _She_  crossed over from their lab and got you to call him that night. Makes sense, really." When she opened her eyes again, the woman seemed more confused than ever, and Olivia weakly shook her head in derision. "Never mind, it's too complicated…can I have it?" She pointed at her phone. "We won't be calling Peter tonight." Although how very symbolic would it be if she did?

Yet again, no.

Still obviously anxious, the lady cautiously handed her the phone. After a few failed attempts, Olivia managed to dial the correct number, bringing it to her ear. The ringing sound was like a comforting music, and relief briefly spread through her aching body when someone picked up at the other end of the line.

Her brain was too slow by now to really comprehend the first generic words that were said to her, and she forced herself to focus.

"I would like to speak to Nina Sharp, please," she managed to articulate as clearly as possible.

"I'm afraid Miss Sharp cannot take any call at the moment," the employee told her formally, and Liv felt her lips curl up into a dry, cocky smile.

"Tell her she's getting a call from the "Alternate" Olivia Dunham...I'm pretty sure she will want to take this one."

...

_Olivia_

...

Their world was doomed. That truly was all Olivia could think about as she drove way over the speed limit.

She had always been one to see the glass half-empty rather than half-full, but today, she would say the glass had obviously shattered on the ground altogether. In all honesty, she didn't see  _how_  she could be optimistic right now, when all she had to do was look outside her windshield and watch as lightning kept on striking in the distance. The sky regularly split open, burning the ground –and too many unfortunate people standing there, screaming of impending apocalypse.

And there she was, on a 'hunt' to find an ancient key that would supposedly open a box containing some sort of mystical answer, so that they could 'unlock' the Machine, in which Peter would then have to step into despite his current state. He had been in a coma ever since that Machine had sent him flying, mere hours ago.

She managed to speed up even more, pressing hard on the pedal as she pushed Peter away from her thoughts. She was worried  _sick_  about him; a big part of her remained incredibly distraught by how she'd had to leave his bedside at all. But sitting there biting her knuckles and watching the Glimmer sway slowly around his battered body would have accomplished absolutely nothing, which was why she was in that car now, trying to do what had to be done. Save the world.

Right.

"You need to relax," Sam told her then from the passenger seat, and she glanced at him, his eyes still fixed on the manuscripts he had been rereading for a while now. "I'm getting nervous cramps just sitting there next to you."

She pursed her lips, tightening her grip on the steering wheel as more lightning bolts crackled in the sky. "I'll relax once we stop the world from ending," she replied tersely, checking the time for the umpteenth time.

Not even 9am, yet she felt like she was living through the longest day of her life. The fact that she hadn't taken a single break in almost thirty – _insane_ \- hours might have something to do with it.

Next to her, Sam snorted softly, and she threw another glance his way. "What?"

He shrugged and looked up at her. "Something tells me stopping this won't make you relax any more than usual."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She couldn't help but ask, irritation now clear in her voice.

"It means what it means," Sam answered in his casual drawl. "You don't need an apocalypse to behave like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Don't get me wrong, it's a noble quality, we need people like you in times like these to save our butts. But the fact is, it will eat you alive eventually."

Olivia was tired. She needed coffee –and even possibly some kind of food, Peter was in a coma hundreds of miles away, the universe  _was_  falling apart around her, and she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. She didn't appreciate the sudden reappearance of his wiseass side. At all.

She opened her mouth to tell him where he could shove his therapy talk right now, but was stopped by an incoming call, her car informing her it was from Broyles.

She accepted the call, and he didn't even give her a chance to greet him.

"Dunham," he said gravely. "We have a situation."

She held back a sigh. "What situation, sir?" She asked tiredly.

She honestly couldn't think of anything worse than what they were already dealing with. Her bad mood had already begun to deteriorate dramatically when he answered her question:

"The kind of situation that involves your alternate having crossed back over to our side during the night."


	3. Chapter Two -  Déjà-Vu

**Chapter Two - Déjà-Vu**

_..._

_Olivia_

_..._

What started as a bad mood had now sunk to an abysmal level.

"Olivia, I really think you should stop the car."

She barely registered the worry in Sam's voice, too busy pushing a few buttons on her steering wheel with traitorously trembling fingers. "I'm not stopping that car until we reach Boston," she told him harshly, before ordering to her car: "Call Nina Sharp."

As the line rang, she tried her best to compose herself, a hand back to her face, something she had been attempting to do for the last few minutes, ever since Broyles' first words. Now that the initial shock was starting to fade, another kind of emotion was taking over, one that was anything but peaceful.

Nina picked up quickly enough, greeting her with her usual nonchalance. "Agent Dunham. I was expecting your call."

Olivia clenched her teeth, dropping her hand to hold on tightly to the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white. "Did it ever occur to you that it would have been wiser for you to call  _me_  when -I don't know, my alternate contacted you last night, maybe?"

"Of course," Nina replied calmly. "It was my intention as soon as I learned she was here. However, after talking with her, it became obvious that the wisest option would actually be to wait."

Her irritation managed to worsen significantly. "To wait for  _what?_ " She almost shouted. "A known, dangerous enemy comes back to our side, just when our world begins to fall apart, and you don't see it fit to let us know right away?"

"Olivia," Nina said more gravely. "I've heard it all from Philip already, as I'm sure he told you. She was hurt and suffering from the aftereffects of her crossover, and she has been mostly unconscious ever since we retrieved her from Liberty Island. She was hardly able to tell us anything at all. I didn't think it was necessary to…distract you immediately from your rather important task."

Olivia somehow highly doubted this was entirely true, and the thought of Nina willingly keeping her in the dark to try and spare her the emotional turmoil was almost as embarrassing as it was infuriating.

She remembered clearly the conversation she had with the older woman a few months ago, at a time when she was feeling particularly down and insecure, and she had opened up too much about her feelings regarding her Alternate and Peter. Needless to say she was bitterly regretting this moment of vulnerability right now.

"I'm sure Philip also told you that she's on her way to Walter's lab as we speak," Nina added.

Oh yes, Olivia knew that all too well. "Yes, I'm aware of that. I'm heading there myself."

According to Broyles, Massive Dynamic had finally contacted him and Walter when they were unable to 'fix' her. Apparently, Walter already had a few ideas that required her, Olivia, to come to the lab as well, and she did not like the sound of this at all.

She  _had_  to go, though.

But she also had to drop Sam off to the museum first –the world hadn't stopped crumbling in the middle of all of this, which meant she wouldn't get there for at least another twenty minutes; no matter what, she was well decided on making it there before the helicopter transporting her Alternate.

Not that it meant anything, of course.

"From what she did tell us, she's not here to harm us," Nina carefully said, almost solemnly.

But Olivia had heard it all from Broyles indeed , and wouldn't believe it until she was shown a proof that the Other Olivia hadn't come back to screw up her world.

In every possible way.

"You'll understand if I remain cautious on that matter," she replied, bleakly. "I think we all know by now just how good an actress she can be."

"Of course," Nina said, unaffected by Olivia's bitter words. "But as I said, she's hardly a threat at the moment. If Walter can't find an effective cure, she won't live long enough to see the outcome of this war."

It was Olivia's turn to be unperturbed by this statement. She was  _not_  going to feel sorry for her, not when she was obviously here by choice again. The fact that she had either chosen to obey Walternate's orders or had come here of her own accord hardly mattered.

She was  _here_. And in Olivia's book, it would never be a good thing.

"What did she tell you, exactly?" She asked, trying not to get sucked back into this dark pit of insecurities she thought she had managed to fill up a few months ago. There obviously had been cracks in her cement, because it was all coming back way too fast.

"Not much, quite honestly. She has  _really_  been unconscious for the most part."

"Humor me, Nina," Olivia insisted. "I'm sure you can manage a simple paraphrasing."

"I'm…afraid you're not going to like it."

Olivia could feel the acid burning in her empty stomach as she became even more sullen. Nina had just confirmed what she had been suspecting all along: they all thought she wouldn't be able to handle it.

"Try me," she told her sternly, in her best ' _don't-push-me'_ voice.

Nina's sigh resonated in the car, before she spoke again: "She said that her only purpose here was to speak to Peter. She was…rather adamant on that point. She said she would not speak to anyone else."

As it turned out, Nina was right.

Olivia did not like it at all.

…

"Call this number once you've got the Key," Olivia told Sam, handing him the piece of paper on which she had just scribbled a phone number. "And only once you've got it. I don't care if you only find a clue here and need to search the entire city next. I personally think you could have spared us a lot of time if you had gone on that hunt on your own a long time ago, and don't even think about having second thoughts again, I still have my gun, and I'm not exactly in a good mood."

Sam pocketed the paper with a slight scowl. "Don't say that, you are a true ray of sunshine. I'm going to miss your company." She rewarded him with a glare of her own. "I'll get the Key," he promised, defeated. "In any case, considering the new developments, we're going to need to have a serious talk."

And on these words, he opened his door and stepped out of the car.

"Hey, what does that mean?" she called him out, somewhat dumbfounded that he dared play riddles with her  _now_.

He gave her a look that was graver than usual. "I'll tell you if I don't die in that museum. I don't know if you've noticed, but it looks pretty animated from here." He was referencing to the jolts of lightning that surrounded the entire building. "Don't sweat it too much for now, Dunham. I'll tell you all I know soon enough."

And on that, he closed the door, marching away rapidly. She was tempted to get out herself and demand an explanation –she was in the kind of mood that made her draw a gun on him. But her eyes fell on the clock instead, and her desire to make it to the lab first came back.

Unsurprisingly, she did not make it first.

She was intercepted by Astrid as soon as she passed the doors, as if the young woman had been standing guard, waiting for her. Which surely was what she had been doing.

Their eyes met, and the look on Astrid's face was all the confirmation Olivia needed.

"She's here?" she found herself asking anyway, and Astrid nodded.

"She arrived about fifteen minutes ago," she said in a soft voice that Olivia recognized as the one she usually used with Walter, when she was afraid whatever she had to say would upset him. But Olivia's focus had already shifted, taking a few small, careful steps, stopping at the edge of the stairs to look down at the room below.

Sure enough, there she was, lying on that long chair she had found herself sitting in more than once, Walter busying himself around her, masking her face from Olivia's view. Her heart thumping hard somewhere at the base of her throat, she turned back to Astrid, highly disliking the empathetic look on her face.

"Why didn't you call me?" She asked then, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you call me when Nina and Broyles contacted Walter earlier this morning?"

Astrid shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said, and she looked as remorseful as she sounded. "I…We were actually outside when Broyles called me, doing an experiment to try and find the last data needed to understand the pattern of the events happening all around, and Walter had just gotten hit by thunder –twice, and he was just…You know how he gets when he's excited, and he was  _really_  excited after talking to Nina. I just thought…I thought we could handle this on our own for a while, and not make you stop what you were doing right away."

Olivia's discomfort and aggravation grew, recognizing the same tentative caution in Astrid's voice that there had been in Nina's. For once, she wished people would be honest with her and admit what they really thought –that they all feared she would react badly.

Less than an hour had passed since she was told Alternate had crossed over, and she was already tired of people walking on eggshells around her because of it. She was  _not_  made of glass.

She was about to say something of the sort to Astrid when Walter's voice boomed, down below.

"Olivia!" He exclaimed, and she had no other choice but to turn around and look at him; Astrid was right, he was almost beaming. "Come on down, come on down!"

Her mood as sinister as Walter's was cheery, she walked down the steps, her eyes now on the unconscious woman, unable to look away. She knew that staring at her own face would never cease to be both eerie and highly disturbing, but what she felt in regard of her Alternate had changed quite significantly since they had last been close enough for her to stare at her that way. The first time around, there had been awe and a bit of fear, as well as an intense feeling of desperation. Now, what she felt was mostly resentment.

A  _lot_  of resentment.

She was realizing how much easier it had been to reflect on this Other Olivia, to try and understand her and the things she had done to her, when she had been reading her file, or lying wide awake at night with her cheek pressed upon Peter's chest. The feel of his hand low on her back and of his breath in her hair had been real and comforting, the strong and regular beat of his heart whispering in her ear that it was all in the past.

Looking at her now, staring at her pale features, she found it atrociously hard to remember why she even tried to understand her motives in the first place.

Olivia might not be made of glass, she was still very much human.

"So…" She eventually said, still unable to move her gaze away from that face that looked so much like her own. "What's wrong with her, exactly?"

Whatever it was, it wasn't that obvious. Sure, she looked pale and there was a waxy, sickly tone to her skin…not to mention the dried blood in her hair and on her clothes. Olivia knew about the gunshot wound; that was the only thing Massive Dynamic had been able to heal easily, apparently.

"It's simple, really," Walter told her, and behind them, she could hear Astrid coming down the steps. "Her body is suffering from her crossing over. As you very well know, anyone who does not possess your natural abilities subjects their metabolism to extreme stress by doing so, and without immediate and proper treatment, the consequences can be severe. Massive Dynamic's scientists have estimated that she was on our side for at least four hours before they started treating her, and what they have tried has had very little effect so far. Except for one thing, and this is why you're here."

And with that, he was on the move again, a spring in his step, gathering materials. Olivia was still confused, and more than a little annoyed by how obviously delighted he felt about all this, when the world was still dying outside.

" _Why_  am I here, Walter?" She asked firmly, but he ignored her.

"Astro, help me get Olivia ready, would you?" He said instead, now dragging a similar chair near the one on which her Alternate lay, and Olivia did not like the sight of this at all.

"First of all,  _ask_  Olivia if she's willing to do it before you start anything," Astrid answered from one of the tables, and Olivia turned to look at her, noticing that she was now bent over a pile of maps and data. "Second of all, someone still needs to work on those data we collected earlier so we can stop the universe from crumbling too fast, remember? So I'll do that while you explain  _everything_ to Olivia."

When Olivia turned back to Walter, he had stopped moving, his arms full of syringes and other medical instruments she instantly highly disapproved of. His smile had faltered a little, and there was a look of incredulity on his face as he stared at Astrid, as if it hadn't even occurred to him that he should explain everything to Olivia before starting whatever he was planning on doing. By the time he moved his eyes back to Olivia, his smile was completely gone.

The way she was glaring at him might have something to do with it.

"Actually, most of the credit goes to Mr. Fayette," he said. "Her wound caused her to lose an important amount of blood, which required a transfusion, obviously. When her body kept on failing alarmingly fast despite their treatments, Mr. Fayette decided to try something else."

"Brandon was the one who thought about using  _your_ blood, Olivia," Astrid summarized behind them, knowing that it could take Walter ten minutes to get to his point. "They apparently had some of it stored in New York."

"Not enough of it, though," Walter continued. "Since you have the  _exact_ same blood cells, his initial goal was simply to make her body recover more efficiently from the blood loss, but as it appeared, a small amount of your sampled blood was enough to slow the degradation for a little while. That is why I believe a direct blood transfusion between the two of you should eventually stop the process altogether."

Olivia's mind was swirling, not sure she was understanding this at all, and not liking what she  _did_ understand. "Wait a minute," she stopped him, raising her hands. "Are you suggesting that I have to give her some of my blood?"

"More than 'some', if my calculations are correct," he nodded his head. "I will also have to give you some drugs first, to make the transfer more effective, and lessen the effects on your side. A small dose of cortexiphan might be needed as well, since it is what makes your body naturally immune to the stress of-"

"Stop right there," Olivia interrupted him sternly, a hand still raised, her face grave. "Why should I put myself through all of this, exactly? What proof do we have that she isn't here under Walternate's orders?"

Walter answered at once, so austerely that he actually looked like his counterpart for a moment: "None, truth be told. She very well could be."

Goose-bumps erupted all over Olivia's skin.

She was never prepared for those moments, when she saw the Secretary through Walter. Whenever it happened, it always gave her the urge to take more than a few steps back, having learned the hard way to instinctively fear pain and death around him.

She didn't yield to this urge, though, crossing her arms in front of her chest instead, her body tingling with the adrenaline that had just flooded her precious blood.

"How can you ask me this, then?" She asked, truly at a loss, confused on so many levels. "How can you ask me to just…forget what she's done, and do this for her?"

He still looked like the Secretary when he said: "Because you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if it turned out she was truly here to help, and that you let her die, and possibly let our world die, without even trying."

His words felt like a slap, causing her to physically recoil slightly. "That's unfair, Walter," she told him quietly, but her voice still rang with reproaches, feeling both hurt and livid.

"There is no fairness in war," he replied then. Just like that, his cold mask crumbled, his wrinkly face now a mask of sheer sadness and regrets, his eyes apologetic and lost. "You and I both know that sacrifices need to be made in times like these. Harsh decisions need to be taken."

She knew he could have been talking about so many things, from the drug trials in Jacksonville to the time when they crossed over last year to rescue Peter, causing the death of more than one innocent.

But she knew he only had Peter on his mind at that instant, Peter lying bruised and comatose in a hospital bed. She knew it, because her own mind and heart were filled with the same image.

She shook her head curtly, a tensed, pained smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "You know Peter would not approve of me doing this if he was here. He wouldn't even approve of you suggesting it."

"If I'm not mistaken, Peter did not ask for your approval before he attempted to step into the Machine," Walter replied straight away, even more sternly than before. "Why should his opinion matter in this case?"

"Walter," Astrid reprimanded him, knowing just how low this blow was, but Olivia raised a hand again, keeping her eyes on Walter.

"It's alright," she said, her voice oddly calm, although she felt like she had just received a punch in the stomach. "It's the truth, after all."

And wasn't it what Olivia had been waiting to hear? Honest words from the people who cared about her?

She was well acquainted with the fact that the truth hurt, in most cases, especially in the matter of the heart. But she also believed that the hurtful truth was better than any lie.

She couldn't ignore how Peter had indeed chosen not to tell her about his intention, but she didn't see this as a lie.

He hadn't told her because he did want her to be there. They didn't know what would happen to him. As far as they knew, direct contact between him and the Machine would cause his eyes to erupt in rays of fire. She easily understood  _why_  he had wanted to spare her that sight.

On some level, she also knew she had unconsciously chosen not to know as well. It was so  _obvious_  to her now, how he would have tried anything to stop the world from dying because of a Machine directly linked to him. She had read it in his eyes yesterday, during that last moment, here in the lab. She had seen his desire to tell her these words neither of them had spoken out loud yet, words that always seemed to become vital during goodbyes.

But none of them wanted for this moment to be their goodbyes, and so they had remained quiet, hoping the other could read it all in their eyes.

Part of her wished she could tell this to Walter, defend herself, defend Peter, explain how his silence regarding his decision wasn't a sign of dishonesty, but a sign that he cared too much to have her there. And yet, she didn't want Walter to understand their dynamic; she didn't need for the rest of the world to know their secrets.

In any case, she didn't have to tell Walter anything at all, as someone else spoke for her, then.

"So, is Peter still alive, or did I come all this way for nothing?"

_..._

_Liv_

_..._

Admittedly, it might not have been the best way for her to start this exchange, especially knowing this conversation could very well determine whether or not she would survive this trip.

But what could she say? She just loved a good opening line.

Plus, she was still all sort of dizzy. And nauseous. Not to mention the pain.

Liv had been awake for a few minutes when she decided to speak. She had listened to them argue over her fate, and then they had mentioned Peter. From the way they talked about him, their voices full of insinuations, along with the overstretched silences, something had clearly happened to him.

Hence her question. Which was a valid one, really.

When her Alternate finally turned her gaze back to her after hearing her speak, she was pretty sure she would have died on the spot if a glare could kill.

She recognized every sign of deep annoyance and intense dislike on her face, her eyes narrowing.

"You've really got some nerve," she told her, then, and Liv couldn't help it. She felt the corner of her mouth twitch, curving in a cocky smile.

"So I've been told," she said weakly with a dry chuckle, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her chest, and in every inch of her body. She could hardly move at all. "I'm pretty sure you've heard it a few times yourself."

Wrong answer, again.

If she hadn't been so out of it, she might have gotten seriously worried for her safety then, because she saw the gun on Olivia's hip, and knew that such a look in her own case usually preceded the use of said gun.

"Don't you even go there," Olivia told her austerely, shaking her head slowly, something close to a sneer now distorting her face.

It was…interesting, actually, to see –and  _feel,_  such a display of loathing coming from the other woman. If she had shown that kind of emotion last year when they first met, instead of the weepy desperation she had shown -even when she had been the one with the gun, things might have been different.

Or maybe not.

What happened, happened, and judging by the intensity of her resentment, her Alternate knew exactly  _what_  had happened. She looked like a lioness whose territory had been shamelessly trespassed.

It was actually a very fitting simile.

"So he told you everything, uh?" She couldn't help but say, her voice still barely louder than a whisper, though she realized just how unwise it was. "That must have taken some guts. I didn't think he would do it."

She had to admire her self-control; she watched as Olivia pressed her lips hard together, beyond livid now, and suddenly, it was as if a bomb that had been about to explode simply stopped ticking. The lethal energy was still there, but she had chosen to contain it rather than let it overpower her.

She offered her a scornful smile then, shrugging a shoulder in fake indifference. "What can I say? He chose honesty over comfortable and ugly lies. Something tells me Frank got the latter treatment on your side."

This actually  _did_  sting a bit, and the small smile she had on her lips wavered for a second. But she couldn't offer to display weakness, not now, not when she was already physically weakened.

She quickly brought the smile back on her face, made it even cockier, more daring, and it was her turn to shrug, one of the few movements she could still manage. "Well, you know, confidential mission and all. Not much I could say."

This caused her Alternate to chuckle humorlessly, anything but amused at the moment, and she shook her head slowly with a look of pure hatred on her face. "Why are you even here?" She asked then. "Why  _bother_  showing your face, when you know we could have you locked up and rotting in a cell right now?"

Liv was very tempted to be daring just a little longer, and ask her  _why_  she hadn't locked her up yet, but she knew it would be stupid...and the answer was obvious anyway. She was hardly a threat at the moment. She probably couldn't have sneezed without feeling like blades were piercing her skin, judging by how painful breathing had become.

She decided to give herself a slim chance, then, and lost the smile. "I came here to speak to Peter," she answered honestly.

She didn't miss the irony, remembering how  _she_  had told her almost the exact same words the first time they met.

Olivia's sinister smile became even more ominous, letting her know she hadn't missed the irony either. "Then I guess you really came here for nothing. He's not able to speak to anyone right now, though I speak for him when I say that if he could, he'd probably tell you to go to hell."

Liv really didn't like how she couldn't help but feel a nudging worry at her words, and that it wasn't even directed towards her own fate. She had fought hard and long for weeks and weeks to try and push Peter back to a corner of her mind, to try and ignore the fact that she had let herself be weak during her Mission by letting herself  _care_.

She had to admit that not thinking about him at all had become particularly hard ever since she gave birth to his son.

But Henry had nothing to do with this. This was not why she had come here, and she was well decided on not mentioning her baby at all if she could avoid it.

For the time being, though, he was on her mind again, and it was extremely hard to push  _his_  face out of her thoughts when it was starting to dawn on her that she might never get to see him again. That she might never get to hold him again, to breathe in the scent of his skin and get intoxicated on his baby smell.

Fuck this. She wasn't going to let herself die.

But the choice wasn't exactly hers, was it? She had heard Walter's words.

"So, you're just going to let me die?" She asked her Alternate, and there was no more smile on either of their faces.

Olivia actually took a step closer, then, her eyes moving over her useless body, as if gauging her. "Give me one good reason why I should help you."

Henry's face floated in front of her eyes again, and again, she pushed it away. She would not beg for mercy using her child, no matter how strong were the pleas of her deepest motherly instincts; mentioning his existence might actually condemn her.

And so she said the only thing she could say.

"I'm you."

This truly was becoming eerily familiar, like a distorted feeling of déjà-vu, and they were both intensely aware of it.

Her Alternate tilted her head, then, biting her lip briefly, still lost in some inner debate.

"I know what you're trying to do," she said eventually, her voice low and stern. "I also know that if the situation was reversed, and I had done to you what you've done to me, you wouldn't even consider giving me a chance right now."

She couldn't say anything to that. Unfortunately, it was probably true.

Hell, it  _was_  true.

Olivia took another step closer, then another, until she was literally hovering over her, proving who exactly had the power right now. "But lucky for you, you were actually right about one thing, that night." And she offered her a smile full of disdain that she recognized as her own. "I'm nothing like you."


	4. Chapter Three -  Awakenings

**Chapter Three - Awakenings**

_..._

_Peter_

_..._

_Peter loved the sight of her in his bed…even when he couldn't really see her at all, like now._

_During the few minutes he spent in the shower, she had entangled herself in the sheets in such a way that all he could see was her hair, still wet from her own shower, her face hidden in the blanket as well. As he unceremoniously dropped his towel –the only thing he had been wearing, and joined her in that cocoon of warmth she had created, he couldn't help but smile at how endearing she was without even trying. He pressed himself against her back, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her to him, not even feeling the slightest hint of guilt knowing she might have been falling asleep._

_But he knew she wasn't as far gone as he initially thought when she rewarded him with a sound he loved to call the '_ Olivia Purr' _–in his head at least, her fingers finding his and intertwining them with hers. Pressing his lips upon her shoulder, he finally noted that she wasn't nearly as naked as he was._

" _You know you're wearing my dirty shirt, right?" he asked softly in her ear, amused. He wasn't surprised; she tended to get cold so much more easily than him, which was why she always liked to wear some kind of clothing at night…snuggling under the blankets was nice, too._

" _I love your dirty shirts…" she whispered a little sleepily, and he heard the smile in her quiet words. "They smell like you."_

" _Mmm…" he hummed against her shoulder blade, almost grinning now. "Nothing beats the smell of my sweaty body."_

_He felt her chuckle more than he heard it, now nuzzling the curve of her neck, and she tilted her head back, sniffing the air. "Clean Peter isn't too bad either."_

_On those words, she turned in his arms, fully pinning herself to him. It caused his entire being to vibrate at a low pulse, loving the feel of her skin against his and making him very aware of every inch of his body touching hers with the slightest moves . But the best contact of all was through their eyes, her face so close to his that her darkening irises were all he could see. Without a single word, she swiftly brought her face even closer, brushing his lips with hers, barely applying any pressure._

_As her mouth teased him, her kisses almost shy, her hand started a slow descent on his chest, and she was being nothing but timid in her caress. Her fingers then became bluntly assertive, causing him to let out a low groan against her lips, his own hands now working on bringing her closer, finding his way under the hem of her shirt and splaying his fingers into the soft curve of her back._

_Their dance was languid, almost cushy, none of them in a hurry, knowing things would pick up in due time; for now, it was all about enjoying the slow build up, the growing fire, the soft sounds and burning breaths, with shivering flesh and rolling hips._

_The change was sudden, unexpected, and unmistakable._

_Olivia's touch became firm and unyielding, her nails digging into his skin to the point of being painful, and within seconds, he was on his back as she straddled him, her thighs circling him vigorously, all softness gone from her touch. She still rippled over him, her body both fire and ice, and he felt torn, his brain functions having considerably slowed down as endorphin flooded his blood, but he knew something was wrong, so very wrong._

_He searched her face and she was grinning, too widely, too brightly, bangs that hadn't been there moments ago now falling over her eyes._

" _No…" he choked out, trying to move from under her as consternation and something close to horror washed over him._

_But she was moving against him again, and he was trapped, his body powerless under hers, ensnared in her web, and the more he tried to free himself, the more intoxicating she became, her hair darkening incredibly fast, and light blond became vibrant auburn as she started laughing, a laugh that was so unlike Olivia's that he would have screamed if he could have used his voice._

_He kept on fighting though, pushing her away with all his strength, until suddenly, he was rolling off the bed; when he fell off the edge, he found himself standing fully dressed in front of the Machine._

_It was gigantesque; he couldn't see the end of it, its metal dark and sinister. He could almost feel the vibrations shaking every inch of it, until he realized that he was vibrating too, at the exact same frequency. Being so close to this monstrous thing filled him with trepidation and sheer terror, and yet, he felt inexplicably drawn to it, as if his very cells were magnets, pulling him forward. He extended a hand, wanting to run as far away from It as he could, but he needed to touch It, to just touch It, to make the yearning feeling in his blood disappear._

_As his fingers brushed the cold, pulsating shell of the Machine, he heard a baby cry, and immutable forces pulled at his very core, propelling him violently into the air. He started to fall, faster and faster, and all he could see was Olivia's smile, that small smile that was for him, and him alone._

_He was going to hit the ground, and all of his bones would shatter within his flesh._

_He didn't._

_He fell through the frozen surface of the lake, and sank into its dark, icy waters. He fought again, fought to find his way back up, his limbs so heavy, so heavy, and the water was so cold, piercing his skin like burning needles._

_And then his head was out again, and he was breathing, he was alive, fingernails scratching the ice as he tried to pull himself out of the water._

" _Peter."_

_He stopped moving, raising his head to look at the figure that stood over him, holding a bundle of clothes in her arms. It was Olivia, he was sure of it. Which one, he couldn't tell, as she was wearing a hood that hid her hair and masked her eyes, and if only he could see her eyes, he would know, he would just know._

_The bundle started to squirm, and it wasn't clothes at all. The baby started crying again, and the ice changed into sheets, smothering linens that enclosed him tightly, and they smelled of her, and of him, and just as he thought he was going to suffocate and die, he felt her hand on his face, and there she was, lying naked next to him, smiling softly._

In his hospital bed, Peter opened his eyes.

_..._

_Olivia_

_..._

More than once, Olivia found herself wondering if her Alternate wasn't simply pretending to be unconscious again so she wouldn't have to deal with them. If she were honest with herself, she would admit it was a smart move, a move she wouldn't have minded trying herself. But she was too antsy to try and pretend anything right now, especially  _not_  unconsciousness.

She was getting extremely tired of the looks, though.

She had never liked being the receptor of someone else's pity, one way or another, which was definitely why so few people knew about her past –or present- misfortunes. As of today, Astrid had become particularly good at looking at her with  _empathetic_  eyes. It started during the night, when Olivia came rushing into the hospital after hearing about Peter's injuries, up until a while ago, when Olivia had asked Astrid if she could be the one handling the transfusion instead of Walter.

The young woman had become even more livid when she saw the scars in the crook of her elbow, where too many needles had been plunged into her flesh not so gently a few months ago.

Olivia had kept her eyes on the floor, swallowing back the chronic indignation and mortification the whole situation kept on igniting within her, all the while trying not think about Peter, again and again. But how could she not think about him, and about how he had seen the scars, too, more than once?

She could not forget how he never said a single word about it, choosing to kiss her marked skin instead, his brow furrowed with anger, a loathing she knew wasn't only directed towards her captors, but also towards himself. That deep line never disappeared from his face, even when she tried to kiss it away, tried to soothe his pain the way he soothed hers, even just for a minute.

Thinking about Peter hurt more than any new needle pushed into her veins today, and yet, she was as powerless as ever when it came to him. Being forced to just  _sit there_  and do nothing at all while her blood was slowly going from her body to her Alternate's was not helping.

She had never been one to sit still, and her fidgety nature was more noticeable than ever when there was an apocalypse going on outside.

"I guess I should thank you."

Olivia was slightly startled by the sound of her voice _,_ her  _own_  voice, and yet different; it always sounded like a recorded version of herself. Reopening her eyes, she turned her head to look at the woman lying on the chair next to hers.

She was awake again –or she simply decided she could stop faking. She was also still clearly weakened; although her face was starting to show some color again, she looked drained.

Olivia was still very much unable to feel any kind of sympathy for her.

They were alone in the lab, now; Walter, who he had apparently found a way to reduce the scale of the events happening all around, was with Broyles. She wasn't sure where Astrid had gone to. The point was that she wasn't  _here_ , when the last thing Olivia felt like doing right now was talk to her Alternate.

But silence wasn't a good option either, not when  _she_  had initiated the 'conversation'.

She had to look away from her sickly face, though, before saying: "Don't thank me. I'm not doing this for you."

This earned her one of her small chuckles. "What, you gonna tell me you're doing this for the Greater Good?"

Olivia couldn't help herself; she looked back at her, their gazes instantly meeting. She absolutely hated the way this woman could so easily crawl under her skin, like some kind of very itchy, abhorring bug. She had barely spoken at all, and yet she already managed to make her feel both mad and ridiculed again.

"I'm not going to try and discuss my thoughts on integrity with you," Olivia told her coldly. "It would be a waste of time, and I'm already wasting enough of it as it is."

Liv sighed and rolled her eyes, obviously unaffected by her bitterness. It wasn't long before she spoke again. "Can I ask you something?"

She sounded casual, as if they were old friends catching up on each other's life, and Olivia had absolutely no idea how she was supposed to react. She had every reason in the world (even two) to ignore her, but she couldn't help feeling like they were in constant silent competition now, and that simply ignoring her would be like admitting defeat.

She was not going to let that happen.

"Ask all you want," she told her as icily as before, her eyes fixed on the Tank's doors. "You might not get an answer, though."

Liv didn't waste any time. "What happened to you? What caused you to become so closed-up and uptight?"

Olivia very slowly turned her gaze back to her.

Even though there had been no hint of disdain in her voice, she expected to see her usual mocking smirk on her face; she was slightly taken aback when she saw that she was simply looking at her curiously, as if truly intrigued. Her obvious lack of condescension didn't make what she asked in the first place more acceptable. The content itself was insulting enough.

"The few weeks I was forced to spend on your Side didn't exactly help," she eventually answered flatly, refusing to even blink. "Being tortured and brainwashed is less enjoyable than you'd think."

 _She_  blinked at that, and some kind of emotion crossed her face; but she quickly and expertly masked it, her lips finally curling up again, as she cocked her head. "C'mon, we both know that's not the reason. You were like that before this whole thing even started. I had to pretend to be you, remember? You should have seen your friends' face every time I  _smiled_ when I got here."

Self-control was such a difficult behavior to maintain when you were forced to interact with someone who had stolen your life.

And yet, Olivia did not react impulsively; she allowed her antipathy to wash over her, offering her her most murderous look of all as she imagined the pleasure she would feel at pulling the needle out of her arm and plunging it in her eye, maybe. She didn't put her thoughts into action, because that was what differentiated her from the criminals she ran after most days.

She was better than this. At least, she really wanted to believe she was. She didn't have to get as low as her. She was not going to let her Alternate act as if she was the better 'version' simply because she was less intense and quicker with a smile.

She had come to term with this a while ago, and it was time to let her know.

"What makes you think that being closed-up and uptight isn't how  _you_  were supposed to be, too?" Olivia asked her then, their staring contest still going strong. "I don't particularly believe that being selfish and careless is an improvement."

Liv's smile only got cockier. "Oh, I know exactly what made me the way I am." She said, and there definitely was some contempt in her voice now. "Don't think that because you're wearing a heavy dark cloud over your head 24/7, you're the only one who had shit happened to them in life. Big news: Shit happens. At the game of life, you either win, or you lose. I just made the wise decision that I should win as often as possible."

It was Olivia's turn to chuckle humorlessly, shaking her head slowly. "I know what you're talking about, your Secretary forced me to live that perfect life of yours, too. I still have your memories, I know about your Rachel dying in childbirth, how it ' _opened your eyes_ ' on how precious life is, and how you should not waste it."

Liv stopped smiling at that, and Olivia felt a strong surge of satisfaction at her returning paler. And so she kept going.

"Life is not a game, Olivia." She told her firmly. "People die. They die, or they leave you. Either way, you end up alone. In the end, all you have is yourself, and that's why I'm so  _uptight_. I'm  _uptight_  because I always try my best anyway, and it's never enough. But no one else is going to live this life for me. Least of all you."

"Trust me when I say that you can keep your life," Liv said, her face just as dark now. "I never wanted it in the first place, and living in your shoes for two months was enough to make me realize your world definitely is the fucked up one."

"Then why the  _hell_  did you come back?" Olivia almost shouted, sitting up angrily, which was not such a smart move, at all. She was still giving up an important amount of her blood –why, she really couldn't remember right now- and her sudden move added to her fury caused her to feel suddenly very light-headed.

She fell back heavily on her chair, bringing her free hand up to her face, her forehead feeling clammy under her palm. Eyes still closed, she forced herself to calm down, but she knew it was too late. Her entire body seemed to be buzzing now, her heart pounding, every hair on her skin standing up.

She briefly thought about how Walter would be delighted to hear she had just given herself a good shot of Cortexiphan without his help. Anger wasn't usually the catalyst, but she had been aware of how receptive she was to any emotion today, ever since she had been told about Peter's condition.

She immediately regretted thinking about him  _again_ , because at the memory of his battered body, the tingling sensation coursing through her body instantly increased, and she cursed under her breath. She kept her eyes tightly closed, knowing what she would see if she opened her eyes and looked at her Alternate. She was certainly not ready to see something she had always associated with Peter around  _her_.

"Uh, something's wrong." Liv said then, and Olivia was so focused on controlling her breathing that she didn't realize it wasn't a question.

"I'm fine," she muttered unhappily. "It's just a head rush."

"No, something's really wrong with one of us," Liv insisted, and she actually did sound a bit freaked out. Olivia had no other choice but to open her eyes, looking at her.

Without surprise, she was surrounded by the Glimmer; but Olivia barely paid attention to it, startled by the look on her Alternate's face. She was staring at her, too, in a way that instantly made her dread what she was going to say next. Her face was a mixture of anxiety and awe, and she wasn't exactly looking at her.

She was looking at something  _around_  her.

"Why the  _fuck_  are you glowing?"


	5. Chapter Four - Wait and See

**Chapter Four - Wait and See**

...

_Liv_

...

The glimmer.

It made every single thing around her shine in wavy rays of light, brighter around humans than it was around inanimate objects. It really was all kind of mesmerizing.

Liv couldn't stop staring at it, as it relentlessly swayed around Walter's body.

She had brought one of her hands up between them again, trying to touch it, even though it was so obviously unsubstantial. And yet, every time she waved her fingers, the light moved ever so slightly, as if reacting to her presence.

"Would you stop doing that?"

The curt request wasn't Walter's, although he was the one subjected to her curiosity. The annoyed demand had come from the chair placed only a few feet away from hers, on which Olivia sat; they were still linked together through the blood going from one to the other.

Liv didn't even glance at her, now waving her hand in front of Walter's face, the old man apparently lost into some deep inner thoughts. "I can't help it", she said, unable to contain another bemused grin. "It's trippy."

Walter did move her hand away, distractingly, as if merely chasing a fly, chewing on his piece of red vine. "Yes, I've always assumed seeing that shimmer had to be quite similar to what one sees after taking some potent LSD," he mused. "Though Olivia never described it as such, and she's experienced both."

 _That_ statement finally got Liv to focus back on her Alternate, who was still glowing as well. It was all about the glimmer, though; the expression on her face was so stern, she couldn't have been farther away from figuratively glowing.

As daring as ever, Liv smirked at her, raising an eyebrow. "LSD, uh? I guess it's true what they say. It's always the good girls."

Olivia simply glared back; if a look could kill, Liv would have died a few dozen times already. She was still alive, though, despite how shitty these odds had been a couple of hours ago. That fact alone had a lot to do with why she felt so genuinely thrilled.

And she wasn't the only one.

"This is beyond fascinating."

Liv brought her eyes back to Walter. It was the third time he expressed how "fascinated" he was, and unsurprisingly, this repetition was rewarded with another exasperated sigh from Olivia.

"We got that part, Walter," she told him crossly. "But you still haven't told us why she can see the glimmer. How come she's reacting to my cortexiphan?"

"It is quite obvious," Walter said. He had now gone back to pointing a bright light into Liv's eyes, as if he really hoped to find some kind of answer in there. "How are you feeling," he asked her, rather gravely this time, never answering Olivia's question.

"You mean, beside the headache your light thingy is giving me?" She half-joked, hoping to lighten his mood again; despite his obvious thrill and excitement, he remained incredibly cold whenever he spoke to her directly, not even trying to conceal how much he resented her for what she had done. Getting no positive response, she finally lost her smirk, tilting her head. "Compared to how I felt two hours ago, I feel amazingly good."

The deep, searing pain she had been feeling in every inch of her body ever since she had crossed over had completely disappeared. All that was left was some distant soreness, but even that seemed to be fading. If that was the price to pay for staying alive, she would have gladly been sore for six months.

"Fascinating," Walter repeated for the fourth time, now rechecking her pulse. "Belly and I always assumed that receiving cortexiphan for the first time during adulthood would kill the subject."

Liv, who had started wiggling her fingers above Walter's hair again, abruptly stopped her movements. "Come again?"

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," Walter continued, indifferently. "If it were going to kill you, it would have happened already, given the amount of stress your metabolism has been subjected to today. You actually seem to be recovering faster, ever since Olivia's cortexiphan has started acting on your body. Which makes perfect sense, considering its regenerative properties."

Truth been told, she still didn't understand half the things he was telling her. From what had been said around her today, what she _had_ understood was that her Alternate apparently had some kind of magical drug in her blood, a drug that gave her special abilities, like making things glow –which was neat but pretty useless, let's be honest. However, it also appeared to be quite useful when you were suffering from severe "cross-over side effects" and dying because of it.

All and all, Liv was just glad it had saved her ass.

Walter was staring at her again, with a grim scowl on his face; with his eyes half-closed like that –and minus the piece of candy that had been dangling from his mouth until now, he looked exactly like _his_ Alternate.

She felt very uneasy all of a sudden. Now that she didn't have to worry too much about dying anymore, her mind was back on track, and she couldn't help thinking about the Secretary. For all intents and purposes, she had fled their world to come help this one, betraying him and their side in the process.

She still refused to see it that way, though; as far as she was concerned, she would keep on thinking of this as an insane, hopeless and desperate 'rescue' mission of sort, in which both universes were what she was trying to protect.

How noble of her.

No matter what this was, she had no doubt the Walter Bishop in her world now resented her just as much as the one standing in front of her did.

"How's the glimmer?" This Walter asked then, still peering at her.

She stopped nibbling the inside of her lip. "It's still there, though I think it's getting dimmer."

He nodded approvingly. "That must be because Olivia is calming down."

"I'm still in the room, you know."

They both turned their gazes on Olivia, who Liv had indeed almost forgotten for a moment. In all honesty, she didn't seem to have calmed down much at all. She mostly looked like she was about to kill one of them, and Liv highly doubted Walter would be her first victim.

"Evidently, dear," Walter replied rather condescendingly, as if she had just said something particularly absurd, darkening her mood. He did move, then, joining Olivia's side, and within seconds, he began working on unplugging the IV line from her arm. "I'm going to stop the transfusion, which means you can start moving around again, though you might experience some dizziness. Your Alternate will have to wait until the bag is empty."

"Fantastic," Olivia muttered.

Perceptive as she was, Liv didn't miss how she swiftly turned her head away from Walter as soon as he began handling her IV. She closed her eyes as well, apparently having no desire to see what he was doing, swallowing almost convulsively.

This was an interesting reaction, one she probably would have pondered upon if a new male voice hadn't been heard just then, successfully getting all of their attention.

"Looks like I've been missing out on some real fun."

Liv stared at the man standing at the top of the stairs. Salt and pepper hair and beard, he looked somewhat disheveled, his clothes dirty and torn in places; he was holding on to a bunch of rolls, a box tucked under his arm.

She had no idea who he was, but when she glanced at her Alternate and saw the way she was glaring at him –her favorite look today, shaking her head disapprovingly at his 'joke', it was obvious that _she_ did.

Looking back at him, Liv promptly decided she liked this stranger, as he gave Olivia an apologetic shrug. "I told you I never got invited to parties."

...

_Peter_

...

Home.

From the moment he opened his eyes, this thought dominated in his mind. More than that, it quickly became an all-consuming, yearning feeling.

It wasn't just a place to him. It was a necessity.

He was aware on some level of his own confused state, just like he knew the dulled, pounding sensation beneath his skull should have been much sharper than it was. Ultimately, he didn't really care, obsessed by these words that continually echoed in his head.

_I need to go home._

He briefly tried to focus on something else as he detached himself from all the odd machines attached to him and got out of bed, standing up on wobbly feet, but the fog blocked almost everything out, like statics interrupting his thoughts. In a haze, he found his clothes, a set of keys, and something he knew to be a cellphone, though he couldn't quite remember what a cellphone was for.

_I need to go home._

As he roamed through deserted hallways, he smelled pancakes, and thought of his dad. He would always make them in the shape of whales on Saturdays. He thought of his mom, too, watching her flip his favorite coin between her fingers, smiling at him with a grace that was all hers. Inexplicable sorrow gripped him at the thought of her, somehow deeply aware that wherever home was, she wasn't part of it anymore. She had been gone for a very long time.

"What's your name?" He merely blinked at the woman speaking to him –a nurse? That was an interesting question, one he couldn't answer right now, and again, it didn't matter much.

_I need to go home._

He managed to make his way out of the building, and as soon as he did, he briefly wondered if he was hallucinating. In the distance, lightning bolts struck the ground, the air filled with the sound of sirens, as smoke rose from the earth. This was not a hallucination.

This was the end of the world, and somehow, part of him knew he was responsible for it.

Her face appeared in his mind, then. He saw her smile first, swiftly followed by the demons that hid behind her eyes, chasing her, always haunting her.

He thought of the fear and hope he had seen in these eyes, of the feel of her cheek in his hand, of her lips upon his own, his fingers entangled in her hair; it had been vibrant and dark that night, both her hair and the feelings she created in him.

More than the feel of her breath upon his skin, of her fingers pressed into his nape, the words she had told him then were what echoed in his mind, remembering how she had entranced him, confirming what he had known for some time.

 _She_ was home.

And wherever she was now, it was where he needed to be.

...

_Olivia_

...

A crowbar.

Olivia had been called many things in her life, described as a few more, to her face or behind her back. She had long ago begun to feel like she was nothing more than a tool, a programmed soldier, the faulty result of an experiment conducted by two arrogant scientists, almost three decades ago. This brand new label only validated these heavy feelings in her heart.

She was being forced to sit still again, asked to somehow manage to meditate despite how restless she felt. No matter how hard she stared into that mirror, how intensely she focused on the letters, trying to type the phrase with her mind, she was getting no result.

Feeling defeated and rightfully exhausted, Olivia closed her eyes, resting her forehead on her joined hands, her elbows up on the table. She didn't know how much more of this she could take, how many more "new developments" she would be able to sustain before she finally broke altogether. She had already been feeling like everything was out of her control when Sam had joined them in the lab, less than thirty minutes ago.

Noticeably ruffled by his quest to find the key, he had also been all too ready to show them the drawing. That drawing depicting her acting up as, well, a _crowbar_.

Before she knew it, Walter had deduced from it that she and she alone had the power to unlock the Machine, and that all she had to do was use her abilities. He had said that as if it was something she could control, as if she'd ever had a say in the things she could do.

But a crowbar was nothing more than a crooked piece of metal, unless someone took it in their hands and gave it a purpose.

"I owe you an apology."

Startled out of her bleak reflections, Olivia raised her head, her gaze stopping on Walter, who stood in the doorway. He and Sam had stayed with her at first, trying to guide her as she attempted to find that "inner peace" she apparently had to achieve in order to do these things that were asked of her; they had left quickly enough, though, probably realizing that the weight of their expectations only made this harder on her.

Or maybe Walter had simply been eager to go back to her Alternate, who still remained greatly entertaining to him, although her presence here had lost its spot at the top of the list after Sam's revelations.

Ultimately, what had led him to leave her alone in this office didn't matter much. She hadn't accomplished anything at all during that time, which made her feel like she should be the one apologizing.

"For what, Walter?" She asked him quietly, not even trying to conceal the exhaustion in her voice.

He walked into the room, coming to sit down on the other side of the table. He looked almost as weary as she felt, his whole frame slumped inward, his lined face slightly constricted with regrets; in that moment, he couldn't have looked more different from the Secretary.

Even though she would never enjoy seeing him in any kind of distress, no matter their history and how many grudges she could have held against him, Olivia felt herself relax a little, relieved to see him being so… _Walter_ , right now.

Broken and half-mad. Deeply caring, too.

He seemed to feel the subtle shift in her stature, offering her a timid, quivering smile, one that was definitely apologetic. "I was indeed being unfair to you earlier, when I tried to guilt you into helping the other Olivia. It was cruel of me, to force you to make that choice, given what she has done to you, and to Peter."

Olivia shook her head, swallowing back the lump that always formed in her throat whenever Peter was mentioned. "You were right. It would have been selfish of me to let her die simply because she hurt me."

His soft smile grew, but somehow, it only made him look sadder. "Your compassion has always amazed me. It is one of the many things I admire about you."

She simply stared at him, offering him a small, pained smile of her own. His words were kind and honest, but they felt empty to her.

They felt like lies.

There was nothing admirable in helping another human being survive.

She knew it had been the right thing to do, and yet, something in her still throbbed with resentment, all of her old wounds exposed again, making her feel weak and vulnerable, a state of mind she despised more than anything else. Her Alternate had yet to tell them _why_ she had come here, as she stubbornly refused to say anything to anyone who wasn't Peter, a thought that only caused her insides to ache, almost wishing she had never agreed to help her.

Feeling like a fake, she averted her eyes, staring back at the keyboard through the mirror.

"Any progress?" Walter asked her after a few seconds, his voice still low and gentle.

She shook her head, staring at the backward letter "B".

_Be a better man than your father._

The thought had imposed itself in her mind as Walter instructed her to think of a specific phrase; her body had been tingling unpleasantly at his proximity, his shoulder brushing hers, asking her yet again to be the tool they all knew she was.

"Maybe you should give me that shot of cortexiphan you mentioned earlier," she suggested resignedly, thinking about what he had said when he had first told her about using her blood to save her Alternate.

Obviously, she was never going to accomplish anything useful unless her veins were pumped with that drug.

But it was Walter's turn to shake his head. "I'm afraid at this point, it would do you more harm than good." She sighed, briefly resting her forehead on her fingers again. "These abilities are inside of you, Olivia, and so is the drug; you proved it earlier. Cortexiphan isn't what gives you power. Your emotions have always been the catalyst. How you feel is what causes your brain to produce it, not the other way around. You simply need to harness it."

She was looking at him again, feeling absolutely hopeless. "I don't know how, Walter. I never have."

He stared at her somberly; she had rarely seen him looking so lucid and grave, and yet so different from his counterpart. "I know what it's like, to feel unequal to the task required of you," he admitted softly after a long stretch of silence. "To feel incapable. To feel like there is another version of you out there…who will always be better than you."

The air hitched in her throat, her heart pounding painfully within her chest; all of her insecurities were too close to the surface, overcome with that smothering vulnerability she couldn't fight.

Because that better version of her _was_ out there, just a room away. And Walter understood that, more than anyone else.

"I'll never be the man I was," he carried on solemnly. "But I've come to embrace those parts of my mind that are... peculiar and broken. I understand now that's what makes my mind _special_. No one can ever take this singularity away from me, no matter how similar we are because we share the same genes, but made different choices somewhere along the way. I understand that the people who love me don't do it in spite of how...unconventional I am. They love me because of it. Even if it causes them to be blinded at times, because they care too much, and wish I didn't feel so burdened all the time."

She knew he wasn't simply talking about himself anymore, and she understood the hidden meaning in his words, saw it his eyes. This was the closest anyone had ever come to discussing the Switch with her, with the exception of the few agonizingly awkward conversations she'd had upon returning from the other side.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," he continued after another pause, his words warm and emphatic. "You have no idea how extraordinary you are. If you would embrace that, there's no end to what you can do."

When she trusted herself to be able to speak, a few seconds later, her voice was barely louder than a whisper: "I know that you want to believe in me...and I want to believe in me...but believing doesn't make it true."

And she meant it. She truly wished she could have that kind of faith in herself. But she knew too much to believe she was capable of doing half the things Walter wanted her to accomplish.

A crowbar was nothing more than a crooked piece of metal, unless someone took it in their hands and gave it a purpose.

"Just try," Walter said encouragingly, his eyes filled with that same unwavering confidence.

Olivia closed her eyes again, holding back a sigh.

Eventually, she did focus back on the mirror, staring at that inverted "B", imagining the typewriter sitting on a table that was not part of this world, but part of the one hiding just behind theirs.

It was yet another world that had broken her a little more when it had used her like a tool, until it had branded her 'expendable', with the exception of her brain and its ever-so-precious drug.

But she couldn't forget how it was that same world that had given her one of the most important pieces of herself, the only piece that made her feel whole, at times.

It had given her someone who made her feel like she belonged, like she was more than just a tool.

She was his, as much as he was hers.

_Be a better man than your father._

...

_Liv_

...

From the moment he was born and up until today, Liv had always managed never to spend more than six hours away from her son.

She had been on this side for nearly twelve hours, now, without having any way to check on him, and she was learning the hard way that she did not like it, at all.

She missed her child.

The more she tried not to think about him, the more prominent he became on her mind. As a result, she was only becoming more and more restless.

She kept on checking her watch, systematically forgetting that the damn digital thing had stopped working when she had crossed over. She would then turn in her seat to glance at the clock hanging on one of the lab's walls. Forced to stay seated as the last of her Alternate's blood slowly dripped into her veins, every minute seemed to stretch into hours.

For the past half-hour, she had been mostly discarded by the A-Team, as they found themselves completely engrossed in whatever that man named "Sam" had brought with him. From where she was sitting, she hadn't been able to see much, and no one had bothered including her in the conversation.

She tried not to care, even attempting to fake sleep again for a total of ninety seconds, but since they kept on mentioning Peter and the Machine, her interest remained piqued.

As she understood it, her Alternate's abilities now went beyond seeing shinny things and crossing over to other universes. Apparently, she also had some kind of connection with the Machine. One thing for sure, her double wasn't happy with this at all –not that it was a big shocker, she had yet to see her be happy about anything. Everybody had then retreated to what she knew to be Olivia's office, to "practice", though Liv hadn't heard enough to understand what that even meant.

Walter and Sam had come back quickly enough. That's about when she and Sam had started eyeing each other curiously, as they had yet to talk to one another. She had let Walter do _another_ eye exam on her, had answered all of his questions on how she felt, though it was obvious his attention had shifted, now more interested in whatever her Alternate was up to, soon running back to her.

Being ignored like that by everyone made her feel absolutely useless, a feeling she highly despised. She was all too aware that this trip had mostly been a big waste of time so far, and that it wouldn't change anytime soon, unless Peter made a surprised entrance in the next five minutes.

And while she was here, doing _nothing_ , she had no idea what was going on on her side. More importantly, she didn't know how her son was doing, where he was, who was looking after him, and these thoughts were slowly driving her insane.

"Somewhere you need to be?"

Liv, who had once again shifted in her seat to glance at the clock behind her, turned back around to look at Sam.

Like her, he was now sitting down, but while she had been behaving more and more like a wild animal stuck in a cage, he merely looked bored. She didn't know much about him, but he seemed like the kind of guy who was rarely bothered by anything. Maybe it was the way he talked, always with a drawl.

She flashed him a cocky smile with a tilt of her head, disliking having been caught in a moment of vulnerability. "Not in this universe," she answered, quite truthfully.

He smirked at her. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. Sam Weiss. I would ask for your name, but your face gave that away a while ago."

"You're a funny guy," she said somewhat sarcastically, but truth been told, she did like him. It probably had a lot to do with how he pretty much was the only person who hadn't been sending hostile vibes her way today.

Astrid seemed neutral as well, though she had seen too little of her since she had been fully awake to really know where she stood. The young woman was always in and out of the lab, running all kind of errands for people. As underappreciated as ever, apparently.

"And you," Sam said, pointing a finger in her direction, peering at her mysteriously, "are an unexpected development."

She chuckled, offering him her most confused frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged with a dramatic sigh. "It means I'm out of the loop. My great-great-great-great grandfather is turning in his grave right now. Literally. I had to pry open his tomb today."

It was her turn to squint at him, scrunching her nose. "Alright, I take it back. You're actually weird."

The main door of the lab opened then, and Astrid appeared, swiftly coming down the steps with a bag of donuts and a tray of smoking cups.

Liv instantly sat up straight, her eyes glued to the cups. "Coffee," she said, sounding a bit too much like an addict in urgent need of a fix. Which wasn't that far from the truth.

She had bitterly regretted ever getting hooked on that beverage once she had gone back to a world that didn't have any –none that she could afford anyway. It obviously hadn't been first on the list of things she had come to regret, but having to wean herself off caffeine hadn't helped. Like (too many) other things, she had sincerely missed it.

To her surprise, Astrid actually _smiled_ at her. "I thought I would get scowled at for thinking about drinks and food at a time like this, but someone has to feed the troops if we want to save the world. Worlds," she quickly corrected herself.

"You'll probably get a scowl from Uptight Olivia, but you definitely got my vote...and Walter's," Liv assured her enthusiastically, still staring at the cups.

She extended an expecting hand, but eventually had to look up from the promising tray when she didn't make a move. She wasn't entirely surprised to see that Astrid was now the one with a disapproving scowl on her face.

"What?" Liv said innocently. And then: "It's the 'Uptight Olivia' comment, isn't it?"

"You think?" Astrid asked her, actually quite coldly this time, and Liv slumped back in her seat with a small _'humph'_. "She's right, you know. You really got some nerve."

Liv smiled, mostly because it was the only thing she could do, shrugging as if it didn't bother her at all, though she stared stubbornly at the floor. "I don't need coffee anyway."

But a cup materialized in front of her, then. Rightfully shocked, she accepted it almost reverently, looking at Astrid in dismay.

Astrid shrugged. "Even if you still refuse to be honest about why you're here, I'm pretty sure you're trying to save the worlds, too." She then gave her an overly stern look. "But you should really learn to bite your tongue, sometimes."

"Yes mom," Liv chuckled, as it was an advice her mother actually gave her on a weekly basis –one she always ignored, obviously.

She then promptly brought the cup to her lips, and her tongue did get burn in the process, as the coffee was still too hot. She didn't care. She had come to appreciate it more with milk during her time here, but the raw aroma made it taste like heaven right now.

Astrid had barely started to walk away when her cellphone started to ring. She dropped everything on a table, picking up hurriedly, back to Apocalypse business. "Hello? Yes." Whoever was on the phone apparently only had bad news for her, judging by how her face fell, then. "What do you mean, he's missing?"

As she listened on, she immediately made her way towards Olivia's office, probably needing to inform her of this new development, once again leaving her alone with Sam. He just shook his head derisively, having apparently given up on trying to keep up with whatever was happening today. Standing up, he got himself a donut, roaming through a pile of old magazines that had been discarded on the table.

Liv took another swig from her cup, deciding it would be less frustrating for her to stay focused on this blissful beverage rather than to give a hundred different meanings to Astrid's mysterious phone call.

What if _her_ son was missing, back home?

It was a stupid thought, especially since she had entrusted Lincoln with his safety, like she had ever since he had helped her deliver him on that crazy night, and she knew he would protect him. She had asked him to bring Henry to her mom's today, but knowing him, he probably stayed with them.

Her baby was fine, she kept on repeating herself as her fingers fidgeted, her nail repeatedly scratching the edge of her cup's lid. He was _fine_.

She just really wished she had a way of making sure of that.

"Olivia?"

If there was one voice she had not been expecting to hear right now, it was this one.

She almost let the cup slip from her suddenly loose grip as she swiftly raised her head in surprise, her eyes stopping on the man who had just called her name.

Peter Bishop was standing at the top of the steps.

One of the very first things she noticed was how battered he looked, his face recently and deeply cut in several places. Adding to that the nature of his look as he stared at her, it was clear he had suffered some kind of head trauma, and was still suffering from it right now.

Because if there was one thing she remembered with perfect clarity about Peter, one thing that had come back to haunt her again and again, especially since her son was born, it was the way he had looked at her, the last time they had been in the same vicinity.

She had tried hard to get rid of these memories, to erase from her mind the weeks she had spent as his lover, unwilling to think about his quiet fury on that very last day. He had hated her guts, then, probably as much as he hated himself for letting her play him the way she did. No matter how much she willed herself to forget, these things just didn't work that way.

And more than his presence in the lab, the way he looked at her was what startled her the most. There was no anger in his eyes, no accusation, no resentment and hurt; the dark gleam indicating he wouldn't mind hurting her back in some ways was gone, too.

Peter was staring at her, and all she saw was honest confusion. He looked like a lost child.

Against all better judgment, she couldn't help but see some of Henry in him, then, just like she always saw some of Peter in her son.

"Peter."

In her state of shock, Liv hadn't even realized the rest of the group had joined them from the office. It was her Alternate who had just called his name, in a voice that sounded both relieved and tense. When Liv briefly looked at her, Walter and Astrid by her side, she saw the same relief and worry constricting her face and tensing every muscle in her body.

With her standing farther away in the lab and Peter still at the top of the stairs, looking even more confused than before as his eyes moved from one Olivia to the other, they almost formed a perfect triangle.

"Well, this is awkward," Sam couldn't help but say.


	6. Chapter Five - Reunions

**Chapter Five - Reunions**

...

_Olivia_

...

"What year is it?"

"2011."

"President?"

"Obama."

"Nausea, headaches, ear-ringing?"

"No. Physically, I feel fine."

"Good." Walter seemed satisfied with Peter's answers, although his face remained grave as he took his blood pressure, keeping his eyes on the numbers. "And who's that woman sitting over there."

"Olivia." Peter did not look up either when he answered.

"Which Olivia?" Walter prodded. "From which universe?"

Olivia's uneasiness went up a notch at this question, her insides twisting, unable to take her eyes away from Peter's face. Up until that point, he had showed little to no reaction to Walter's inquiries and physical examination, if not for the way his expression was becoming gloomier, indicating that his confusion was receding. His sullenness was affecting his entire body language as well, leading Olivia to think he was once again fully aware of what was happening, and of _who_ was in an adjacent room; it would explain why Walter's latest question seemed to strike a nerve.

She watched as his whole body tensed up, his frown turning into a scowl, an indicator of his frustration and self-loathing. He might have had some difficulties differentiating her and her Alternate only a few minutes ago, she had no doubt he knew " _which one_ " she was, now.

When he glanced up her way, the look they shared was too brief for her to offer him a reassuring smile. She doubted she would have managed more than a distorted grimace, though, even if he had kept his eyes on her for more than a fleeting second.

He stared at Walter instead, not even attempting to conceal his irritation. "What do you mean, _'which Olivia_ '? I know who she is."

Walter wasn't phased by the dark heat of Peter's glare. He held his son's gaze. "You have suffered a serious head injury and you were obviously confused about their identities when they were both in front of you. I am not trying to upset you, nor am I accusing you of anything. I am asking out of concern for you. I want to know the extent of your confusion."

Peter clenched his jaw, his father's explanation having done little to soothe him. "She's the Olivia Dunham who convinced me to get you out of St. Claire's three years ago," he answered, his voice low and bitter. "The Olivia Dunham you experimented on when she was only three."

Olivia's stiffened in her chair. She did not approve of Peter's snide remarks, especially the ones which used _her_ as a way to attack his father. His reaction was far from unusual or out of character, given his current state of mind, but while this dripping sarcasm would have been typical of him, three years ago indeed, it did not quite fit him anymore.

"Your memory is obviously returning," Walter noted after a few seconds of heavy silence, a twinge of reproach in his voice, unwrapping the cuff from around Peter's arm. "It seems that your confusion was only temporary. You're going to be okay."

Peter let out a faint, humorless chuckle, bringing a hand up to his nape, as if trying to rub the tension from his muscles; Olivia noticed all these details, understood their meaning, and it only made the ache in her chest more acute, especially since he seemed determined not to meet her eyes.

Despite her apprehension concerning this entire situation, Olivia couldn't stand to see and sense such self-contempt emanating from him. She took her chance when his hand let go of his neck, reaching out and grabbing his fingers in hers.

He might have managed to avoid looking at her until now, but the direct contact of their skins had the desired effect.

He raised his head and met her eyes dead on, their gazes locking, and she squeezed his fingers. She couldn't smile, not yet and not now, but there were many things she could convey without moving her lips.

 _It's alright,_ she told him silently. _We'll be okay._

After a couple of seconds that felt more like several minutes, she felt the change in his grip as he squeezed back. He didn't look any better when he averted his eyes again, moments later. The anger she had recognized in him seemed to have somewhat withdrawn, only to be replaced with something close to shame.

She was not doing so well herself; her emotions were still running high and showed no indication of calming down any time soon. The momentary respite she received from today's madness when she tried to use the typewriter was cut short by Astrid's announcement, informing them that the hospital had just called, and that Peter was missing.

She never thought she would find him standing at the top of the stairs when they went back to the main part of the lab; but there he was, staring at her Alternate with blunt confusion, in a way that caused her insides to twist with both relief and dread.

It only took a few seconds for his Glimmer to reappear, soon swaying around him in a way that was sickeningly familiar. Unable to stop herself, she watched as the same aura shone around her double, a sight that caused her throat to clench. The light had spoken, then, whispering poisonous words to her aching heart.

_Here's the proof you've been waiting for._

The thought was absurd, the way most thoughts were in these moments; it had crawled out of that dark pit of insecurities she kept inside of her, the way this wavering light had crawled out of Peter's skin.

She had doubts, and probably always would, but she trusted him. She had battled enough with herself, and had taken the sound decision to move forward on the night she knocked on his door, her heart thumping in exhilaration, the thrilling, terrifying kind. He had glimmered again in that kitchen, although she stated otherwise to reassure him; that night, she decided to embrace it, accepting the fact that, like the blue of his gaze or that crease between his eyes, the light was part of him.

She forgave him a long time ago, even if he had yet to show himself the same mercy.

But his eyes were wide with confusion as he stared at this other Olivia. He looked so vulnerable and lost, an expression she profoundly disliked seeing directed towards anyone but her. She understood this was a consequence from his head injury, but she was nonetheless grateful for Walter's swift reaction, as he almost ran up to join his son, before dragging him down the stairs and into the office they had exited only moments ago.

Within minutes, Peter's confusion was ebbing away.

When she felt his hand begin to slip away from hers, she had to resist the urge to tighten her hold in response. She let him go for now, understanding all too well how he felt, how sometimes, the slightest comforting touch could burn you.

After another long pause, Peter spoke, his eyes back on Walter. "Why is she here." It wasn't a question, his voice low, almost menacing.

Olivia decided to answer. "We're not exactly sure. She almost died crossing over, so she wasn't able to say much for a while. And until now, she's refused to say anything useful to anyone. She said she would only speak to you." She watched as his Adam's apple went up and down, his irritation peaking again. "It seems pretty obvious that she's here because Walternate activated the Machine on their side, though. I think she may have come here to…warn us, about his intentions."

She didn't know if Walter and Astrid shared her theory about her Alternate's motives; they didn't have any opportunity to discuss it in the last few hours, considering how the situation kept on changing, throwing new developments and plot twists their way every ten minutes. She'd had very little time to adjust to Sam's return and his findings, before she had to re-adapt again to focus on Peter.

But her constant state of stress hadn't stopped her from thinking about it, especially during that time she spent giving her blood, and her intentions seemed rather obvious, in her opinion.

No matter how much she resented her Alternate, or how much easier it would be to believe Liv was here to mess with her and her world a little more, she couldn't let this bitterness blind her. The situation was too grave. Plus, it wouldn't make sense for Liv to be here for such reasons. Olivia had read and reread her mission files; she couldn't ignore how eerily similar their way of reasoning was.

This Olivia might do things differently, her morals might stretch in different direction, she was still a clever agent. To harm and to do wrong was not in their nature. What Liv did during the Switch, she did for the "greater good". Even if she was here under the Secretary's orders again, which seemed unlikely, she would have known she would only find enemies here. There had to be a more selfless reason behind her presence in their universe. That, or there were some things she was not telling them.

Olivia had a few hours to dwell on this and try to come to term with it. Peter hadn't. Peter had just come out of a coma, and even though he claimed otherwise, he probably still was in some kind of physical pain. His residual guilt and antipathy were so raw she could almost taste it. Olivia worried even more than usual whenever he was in that state of mind; in those moments, he rarely thought or acted rationally.

She therefore was not surprised when he rose up from his seat, the chair almost falling over. The look on his face was ominous, and so was his tone when he told them, already halfway to the door: "It's time I have a little chat with her, then. And if I don't like what she has to say, I'm gonna make her regret ever having the nerves to come back."

...

_Peter_

...

He had lied to Walter about not being in pain.

His entire body felt sore, and the ache in his head was getting worse with every passing minute. By the time he was making his way out of the office and back to the lab, the pain beneath his skull was throbbing, matching the crazed pounding of his heart.

He didn't mind the pain; he was using it, refocusing it to be a catalyst, turning the self-loathing burning in the pit of his stomach outward, directing it toward someone else.

He supposed the drastic shift in his state of mind could be compared to being dragged under water by an unforgiving hand, left unable to breathe. While confused, making sense of anything was nearly impossible; it also made him feel unbothered, unburdened, his thoughts mainly focused on Olivia and his desire to make it back to her.

The fog that had blurred his mind was gone now, causing his guilt to resurface. He understood that the world was still very much ending outside these walls, but instead of concentrating solely on that _small_ problem, he was forced to face one of his most shameful mistakes, in the flesh.

This time, when he set his eyes on Liv, he made no mistake. His previous confusion was caused by his memory of Olivia, whose hair had been that same vibrant red on the night she sought him out and asked him to come home with her.

He now saw her Alternate as she truly was: the traitor who manipulated him, used him, betrayed him in the most sickening and intimate manner, who then had the _nerves_ to escape right under his nose. Even with her gone, they had to deal with the aftermath of her deception for weeks.

Right now, he glared at her the way he had every time they had been in the same room, on that last day, with nothing but pure contempt. She stared right back, well aware that his confusion was gone.

His focus shifted, though, looking at Astrid, who was busy at her side. She was unhooking what looked like a bag of blood from the woman's arm. It only took a second for his mind to come up with an explanation, proof that his genius brain was fully functional again. His anger peaked at the thought, though, causing his rational self to cower in a corner, while he let his emotions take over. He turned around to look at Olivia, who had joined them, along with Walter. He ignored his father altogether, scowling at her.

"You gave her your blood."

Olivia, who already looked ghostly, did not seem to appreciate either his tone or glare. Her mood as abysmal as his, she shot him a look in response that might have made him recoil a little, had he been thinking clearly.

"She was dying," she replied firmly, emphasizing that now was not the time for him to try and lecture her on the matter.

Despite the throbbing in his head, both literal and figurative at this point, rendering him almost deaf to any sensible thoughts he may have, he decided that starting a fight with her would be unwise and useless, particularly when he could unleash on someone else present in this room.

He turned back to look at Liv, who was now up on her feet and pacing, looking disgruntled. His jaw and stomach both clenched, thinking she had no right to show signs of discontentment.

"Handcuff her," he said, looking straight at Astrid.

The young woman opened her mouth, thrown by his angry request, her eyes darting to Olivia. Peter was staring at Liv again, who had come to a stop, now offering him a skeptical look, hands on her hips.

"The fact that you're moving around, acting like you own this place, proves that you're a little too at ease for someone who infiltrated our team six months ago. Handcuff her," he ordered Astrid again.

Even though she decided to obey after a few seconds, the glare she threw his way made it clear he was digging himself into a deep hole, treating everybody the way he was. Liv did not resist when Astrid brought her hands behind her back and secured the handcuffs around her wrists.

She did decide to speak, though, her first words to him since they last talked, in that train station, where she had stood handcuffed and captive, too. Keeping a steady gaze on him, a sly smile growing on her lips, she asked:

"Are we using the same safe word?"

The pounding in his skull became so extreme he saw white for a moment.

The comment was meant to be a low, humiliating blow, and it succeeded beyond measure. The fact that they never actually used either handcuff or safe words mattered very little. She scored the first point, but he was not going to let it slide.

Carefully avoiding Olivia's gaze, he kept his eyes on Liv. "Killing you is still pretty high on my bucket list. You should probably remember that the next time you try to sound smarter than you are." She merely pinched her lips, in a way that resembled Olivia too much. "Why are you here?" He demanded, then, aware that they could spend the rest of the day exchanging niceties if he didn't cut to the chase. "Olivia seems to think you've come back to warn us about your boss trying to destroy our world, but in case you hadn't noticed, all the earthquakes and apocalyptic storms gave that away a while ago."

She shrugged, although her expression remained disdainful. "I came back for the premiere of Game of Thrones. It looked like a promising show, and we don't have HBO on our side."

Obviously, she did not take his threat seriously. He didn't need a gun to shut her up; he envisioned himself clenching his hands around her throat with perfect clarity. To fight this intense urge, he almost slammed his hands onto the table he was standing in front of. "You are in no position to be making jokes," he repeated, his fists closing up in frustration, crumpling papers he hoped weren't important.

She chuckled humorlessly, sneering back at him. "Oh, 'cause you think _you_ can act all self-righteous with me? Or are you just trying to look tough in front of your… _girlfriend_."

"Just get to the point."

The stern demand came from his girlfriend. He glanced at her, but just like he had avoided eye-contact a minute ago, she kept her eyes on Liv.

"You wanted to talk to Peter, there he is. Now talk."

Liv remained quiet for a few seconds, staring back at Olivia, before turning back to Peter. "Your father, the Walter Bishop from my side, he activated the Machine," she announced in a formal tone, as if trying to make herself sound more official, certainly well aware by now of how irrelevant her warning was. "He seems to think that by destroying your world, ours will survive and heal."

"Like I said, your presence here is therefore useless," he found necessary to repeat, enjoying watching her as she tried to keep a straight face on. "We figured that much out forty hours ago."

"Well, I couldn't exactly know what I was gonna find when I crossed over, could I? That didn't mean I shouldn't at least try to warn you. I came here on my own, and I am now considered a traitor on my side." Apparently realizing Peter was not convinced by her sudden display of heroism, Liv continued, "I know you people have plans to stop the Secretary, that much I got from all your little chats. But as a citizen of the world you're planning on destroying, I'm here to remind you our universe deserves to survive just as much as this one does."

The look he gave her was absolutely contemptuous. "That is almost hilarious, coming from the very person who stole part of the Machine from our side, and ultimately made it possible for my 'father' to use it against us. You were here for two months, you know we never intended to start this war. I don't care if he now wants you dead too, good for him. Walternate decided to attack us and destroy our world, we will defend ourselves in any way we can."

"My world was your world, too, once," she said with vehemence. "Does that even mean anything to you? You still have family over there."

Peter was too far gone to notice the odd intensity with which she made that last statement, with an urgency so different from the way she had behaved until now. But he did not pay any attention to whatever emotion she was voicing, let alone care. Because his family was _here_ , in this world, and that was all that mattered.

He was about to tell her just that, but was cut off by someone else. "Actually, that is a pretty relevant question."

Peter turned around, startled by the unknown voice. Until now, he hadn't even noticed the stranger who stood farther away in the lab.

He stared at him, his first instinct being to ask who the hell he was, but he frowned then, realizing that he looked vaguely familiar. "I've seen you before," he said instead.

"Yes you have," the man nodded, almost tranquilly. "I own the Bowling Alley. Or owned, really. You used to go there with your MIT friends. You guys were a bunch of arrogant smartasses, but you could strike like no one else."

"What are you doing here?" Peter almost interrupted him, his annoyance clear in his voice. They had no time for this.

"Sam knows about the First People," Olivia explained, tersely. "His family has been guarding knowledge about the Machine for centuries."

Peter glared back at Sam, who frowned a little under his stare. "And you waited until the world started crumbling because of it to come forward with this information? How thoughtful."

"I resent the accusation," Sam replied with a pointed finger and a slight scowl, though to be honest, he did not look that bothered. "Things were not supposed to happen this way. The Machine was supposed to be activated by you, and you alone. According to the book, your choice is what's supposed to decide the fate of both universes." He paused. "No pressure."

Peter dismissed his last comment, shaking his head in annoyance, once again confused. "What do you mean, my choice?"

Sam shrugged a shoulder, resigned. "In theory, the Machine answers to you and your…inclination. You should be able to form some kind of symbiotic bond with it, and in turn, the world you are most attached to would survive. Which brings me to what Red asked you. Since your emotions are the key to making the Machine work, and your emotions are also connected to your sentimental life, it all comes down to which Olivia you will choose."

...

_Liv_

...

"You've gotta be kidding me."

Peter's almost disgusted words seemed to speak for everybody present in the lab.

"I didn't write the book," Sam replied, matter-of-factly.

Still standing immobile with her arms locked behind her, Liv observed the different reactions Sam's bombshell prompted. Astrid remained quiet, although she looked troubled by the thought; Walter kept on chewing on yet another piece of candy, looking like he had rarely witnessed anything so entertaining in his life.

Liv was most curious about her Alternate's reaction, but to her surprise, Olivia did not seem startled at all. She did not look remotely pleased by it, but otherwise, it seemed like she had heard this before.

Personally, she thought this was all bullshit, considering the words themselves –seriously, how was that even an _option_? This seemed so ridiculous to her, she didn't think Peter's first reaction would to be to blame it on her.

"Is this why you're here?" He asked, or rather spat. If possible, he sounded even more pissed off than he had been a minute ago. He was going to give himself a brain aneurysm if he didn't calm down a bit. "Did you come back hoping you could convince me to choose _you_?"

Even though she did not care about what Sam said, or had any illusion whatsoever about Peter's feelings towards her, the depth of his hatred and contempt stung. She straightened herself up in response, ignoring the ache in her arms caused by her inability to move them, the metal of the cuffs digging in her wrists.

She was not smiling anymore, but she was not going to let him get the best of her. "Ignoring the fact that this is the first time I even hear about this crap, one of the last things you told me before I escaped, one you just repeated three minutes ago, was that you wouldn't mind killing me, and you sure tried hard that day. How thick do you think I am, exactly?"

He almost showed teeth, like an enraged dog. "You tell me, sweetheart," he mocked her. "You're the one who blindly followed orders and screwed this universe over, only to change sides six months later."

As it turned out, he should be grateful she was handcuffed, considering the intense urge that flowed through her, wishing nothing more than to snap the heel of her hand into his face and feel his nose crack under her palm.

"Oh really," she hissed back, not even trying to conceal how much she despised him at that instant, only wanting to return the blow. "And how long were you screwing _me_ before you realized I was the wrong woman? Oh, wait. You never did. Someone had to _call_ you and spell it out for you."

"Stop it."

Olivia's severe intervention had the desired effect.

They both turned their flaming glare on her. She was staring at Peter in a way that caused him to deflate in seconds.

"Olivia," he tried, his voice hoarse.

"Shut up," she told him sternly. Even though she remained pale, her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed to be working hard on controlling her breathing as she turned her gaze on Liv. "I understand that the two of you have a history and unresolved issues, but as touching as it is to hear you talk about how you both screwed each other in every possible way, we have an impending apocalypse to deal with, so get a grip."

"Well-said."

"You can shut up too, Sam. In case you haven't noticed, your interventions haven't exactly been helpful so far."

Silence fell back upon the lab. Liv felt too worked up and shitty to appreciate the ridiculous and comical aspect of the situation, but in any other circumstance, she might have been amused by it. She felt like they were all a bunch of naughty kids who had just been scowled at by their disapproving mother.

"Guys?"

Every gaze turned on Astrid, who stood next to Walter. She seemed a bit taken aback by the fact that she was being stared at by so many people, but she spoke up anyway. "Shouldn't we talk about _how_ the Machine activated itself in the first place, when Peter clearly isn't in it? I know Olivia is working on a way to deactivate it, but wouldn't it be pointless if Walternate has a way of turning it right back on?"

For the first time in several minutes, the mood in the room shifted, the heavy tension easing slightly as minds started reeling. Everybody eventually looked at Walter, who was the brain of the team, before their attention turned to Sam, when they realized the old man was looking at him.

Sam raised both his hands, shrugging again. "Don't ask me. I told you, I'm out of the loop."

"Walternate would have needed Peter's DNA to activate the Machine without an actual body," Walter mused at last, focusing on Liv. "Did you bring some of Peter's blood back with you when you left?"

Now in the spotlight, she shifted uncomfortably, Walter's words suddenly making her feel queasy.

She shook her head, swallowing hard. "No. I didn't bring any blood back with me."

She had brought back so much more than blood. A growing fetus in her womb, to be exact.

She wished they would uncuff her, now, feeling overwhelmed by the connections she was starting to make, putting together the elements that were right in front of her. As they all kept on making hypotheses, Liv was now deaf to their words, cold sweat breaking over her body, her heart thumping in her chest.

All she could think about again was Henry, her child, and everything that had just dawned on her.

"Would partial DNA work?"

She was somewhat aware of how hoarse her voice sounded, but she didn't care. She looked straight at Walter, her apprehension growing exponentially when she realized the faint glow of the Glimmer was reappearing everywhere she looked. While this phenomena had been 'trippy' only an hour ago, she found the presence of this light almost disturbing, now, realizing that the foreign drug in her brain had been triggered by what she was feelings.

"I mean, would the blood of a relative work on the Machine?" She forced herself to stay focused. "People from the same family share parts of the same DNA, right?" She was not an expert, but she had listened to Lincoln enough time through the years to retain some of his explanations.

Thinking about Lincoln was not wise, though, not when she had left him in charge of her baby's protection, unaware of what it truly meant.

Walter narrowed his eyes, considering her question. "In fact, they do," he confirmed, before shaking his head. "Although Walternate could never have used his own blood, or even his wife's; the markers would not have been strong enough. Blood from a sibling or a child might have worked, but since Peter has neither, it's impossible."

The glow intensified all around her, and Liv found it difficult to breathe, her chest now painfully constricted. Blood from a child. Blood from _her_ child.

A child she had left on the other side, at the Secretary's mercy.

Everything made sense now. Her abduction, her accelerated pregnancy, and how it allowed her and her baby to survive delivery despite being a carrier for VPE. Her child was always the reason, making sure he would survive birth and live long enough to get some of his blood, so Walternate could turn on the Machine.

And now, she was a universe away from him, discussing ways to shut the damn thing down, giving the Secretary one more reason to use her son for his bidding. What if he tried to turn it back on again, and whatever blood sample he used in the first place didn't work anymore? What if he needed more than blood, and decided to use his _physical_ body?

"I have to cross back over," she said, now frantically trying to free her hands from the handcuffs, although well aware she would never succeed. "Let me go, please," she asked Astrid, feeling shaky and nothing short of panicked.

No one moved. She barely noticed the confused suspicion now visible on most of their faces. She looked at Astrid again, who seemed to be the most conflicted of the lot. "Please," she repeated, almost choking up now. "I have to cross back over, I can't stay here."

"You're not going anywhere," Peter stated, unbothered by her sudden distress; "Until we figure out a way to stop what your boss has done, we're definitely not going to let you run back to him with information on what-"

"God you're so clueless," she interrupted him, almost shouting now, still fighting with her cuffs; she ignored the pain in her wrists, insignificant compared to the ache in her chest. "I don't give a fuck about your war, I just need to go home!"

"Hey, calm down," Olivia ordered her. She looked taken aback by her sudden panic. She seemed to make up her mind, though, finally saying: "Astrid, go ahead please."

Liv stopped moving long enough for Astrid to undo the cuffs. She heard and paid little attention to Peter's disapproving growl, or to Olivia's short reply, stating that she couldn't exactly go far on her own anyway.

"Where's the device?" Liv asked, following that train of thought, turning back to Walter. "The second device I brought with me."

He shook his head, his expression stern. "It is still in New York, being examined by scientists from Massive Dynamic," Upon seeing her indignation, he added: "I examined the first one myself, and I am not surprised it almost killed you; its design is clumsy and grotesque at best. You would never survive a return trip using that same device."

She was pacing again, a hand clenching her hair in a death grip. "I don't care, I have to try. I need to get to Massive Dynamic."

"Again with you thinking we're going to let you go anywhere," Peter said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and frustration. "Everybody else may be treating you like a guest, you're nothing more than an undesirable prisoner to me, Dunham."

She stopped pacing, briefly closing her eyes as she failed to ignore his words and contempt any longer.

Coming here was the result of an impulsive decision on her part, like most of her decisions usually were; given how disastrous this stupid "mission" turned out to be from the moment she reappeared in this world, bleeding out and pretty much _dying_ , she realized now she maybe should have given it some thoughts.

She certainly didn't think much about Peter and how he would react. She never thought much about Peter, or at least she tried not to. Rationally, she understood the depth of his resentment, although rationality was hard to achieve at the moment. The fact remained that she had hurt him, betrayed him.

And now, she had also betrayed the most powerful man in her country, maybe even her universe, given the weapon he had at his disposal. She had betrayed the very man who had been playing her for the past six months, who had made her a pawn in his game.

She never intended for her innocent child to become his brand new chess piece, though, even if it was his intention all along.

"What is wrong with you?"

Liv reopened her eyes, raising her head to look at her Alternate, who had asked the question. The annoyance and incomprehension in her voice were reflected on her face as well. Unlike Peter, Olivia looked disturbed by Liv's anxiety, as if she was sensing the gravity of the situation, without even knowing what it was all about.

Maybe Olivia was also sensing that, whatever Liv had to say, she would not like the answer.

Breathing hard, her heart still pounding in her chest, she straightened up, briefly bringing a hand to her face to wipe her nose, a nervous tick she thought she had gotten rid of for good years ago. She took in a few shaky breaths, in the hope it would help her regain some kind of composure, as she tried to come to term with what she was about to say.

When she crossed over, she promised herself she wouldn't do this, no matter what, that her child would not be involved. But as it turned out, he had been involved from the start, and she had very little choice left, now. She knew she was not thinking straight, that she was letting her emotions control her, something she usually avoided at all cost, but she was powerless against these deafening maternal instincts roaring in anguish inside of her.

She had to go back to her baby, make sure he was safe. And these people who hated her guts, for valid reasons, a feeling that would only get worse in a matter of seconds, they were her only way home.

Without their help, she would never make it back to Henry.

"I think the Secretary used my son's blood to activate the Machine," she said at last, to no one in particular, keeping her gaze down. But she looked straight at Peter when she added: "He used your son's blood."


	7. Chapter Six - Blood Ties

"He used your son's blood."

Only silence followed her admission, the thick, heavy kind that felt almost palpable.

Liv's eyes remained fixed on Peter as dread twisted her insides. Telling him about Henry never was part of the plan when she crossed over, no matter how thin that plan had been. Now that she'd been cornered into doing it, though, she could barely stand how apprehensive she felt.

 _Don't hate him_ , she found herself thinking.  _Don't hate your child for something he has no control over._

She shouldn't have worried about him hating her baby. That much became obvious when Peter's face contorted into a grimace of skepticism and disgust.

"What kind of sick game is this?" He asked, his tone matching his expression.

He didn't believe her.

Had she been calmer, Liv might have realized that  _of course_  he wouldn't believe her. She couldn't have been farther from being able to achieve any kind of rational thinking, though, as her heart thumped at a furious pace within her chest, her palms clammy with sweat.

The worry she felt for her son's safety made it almost impossible for her to  _think_. All she knew was that she needed them to believe her, to believe her  _now_ , so that they would let her go back to him.

"I'm not lying," Liv said with a shake of her head, her voice hoarse with emotions, her gaze still locked with Peter's. She had dropped all kind of pretense, in the hope that being as genuine with him as she'd ever been would play in her favor.

Once again, she was underestimating the depth of Peter's rage. He was nearly sneering when he said: "You've done nothing but lie to and betray the people present in this room from the moment you first infiltrated our world, but this has to be your most pathetic lie yet."

Liv's patience, which was already worn thin, vanished altogether, her fear and frustration making her as irrational as him. "Look, I'm not asking you to believe me!" she snapped. "If I'd wanted to use your son's existence to manipulate you, I'd have mentioned him hours ago. I'm only telling you now so you'd understand  _why_  you have to let me go home. I need to make sure he's safe!"

"Stop.  _Lying_ ," Peter boomed, his traits twisted in contempt. "There's no way you can have a child!"

Liv was beyond fed up with him and his angry denial, with his loathing and the waves of hatred he was sending her way, refusing to even  _consider_  the possibility that his son was real, and therefore making it impossible for her to get back to him.

"Is the thought of you getting me pregnant really that unrealistic, Peter?" She asked, then, unable not to readopt a sarcastic demeanor, more as a way to shield herself than anything else. "Do you need me to go over how many times we shagged and how these things work?"

"I don't think that's what he meant."

Liv was taken aback at the sound of Astrid's voice, having almost forgotten that she and Peter were far from being the only people present in the room. Her eyes finally moved away from Peter's, finding Astrid's. The young woman looked pale and confused. Her antipathy had never been as strong as Peter's, but from the look on her face, it was clear she didn't believe her either.

"The timing just doesn't work," Astrid continued. "Even if you had gotten pregnant before going back to your world, you would still be pregnant now, but you're obviously…not? I know some women don't show until late into their pregnancy, but I find it hard to believe you wouldn't have said anything about it until now. If anything else, it would have shown in some of your blood work."

Liv closed her eyes for a second, taking what she hoped would be a couple of calming breaths. This was her chance. Astrid was giving her the opportunity to explain herself, instead of simply dismissing her claim altogether.

"I should be about fourteen weeks pregnant, to be exact," she said to the floor, before raising her head to look at Astrid again. "Instead, I have a three weeks old baby at home. That's what happens when someone powerful and resourceful enough abducts you and decides to make you skip seven months of pregnancy."

"You're insane," Peter said, shaking his head very slowly, his scowl dangerous. "How can you expect us to believe any of this bullshit?"

"I am  _not_  making this up!" Liv nearly shouted again, her sense of helplessness worsening, in turn making her feel terrified and furious. "Look, there is no way for me to show you solid proofs, but I can assure you that no matter how fucked up you think this is, it's nothing compared to the freak show it truly was! I could give you a detailed report of what happened to me, if it's what it takes, tell you what it felt like to be strapped to a chair while they made my ten weeks old fetus grow thirty weeks in the span of twelve hours. Or maybe you need to hear about the part where they used a torture machine on my lower half in order to 'extend' my ligaments, so that my pelvis would be wide enough to push him out an hour later?"

Liv didn't expect her angry words to convince anyone, behaving out of desperation now; she never reacted well to being this helpless. In some ways, she felt almost worse than she had on  _that_  night, and that was saying something.

All she wanted was to go back to her son. Couldn't they see that?

If anything else, her little monologue had shut Peter up again; the way he kept on glaring at her, jaw clenched and arms folded, made him look like a stubborn twelve year old.

"Is it…is that even possible?" Astrid asked, then. Looking away from Peter, Liv saw that the young woman was now looking at Walter.

"In theory," he answered in a low voice. "If I remember correctly, one of the very first cases we worked on together involved an accelerated pregnancy, yes? At the time, the process never stopped, causing the death of not only the mother, but of the child as well, since he continued growing and aging. Assuming that the Other Side found a way to reverse the aging process, or to contain it to gestation, then yes, I suppose it is possible. Still, it would remain a highly dangerous procedure for both mother and child." He turned to Liv, then, who honestly felt stunned by this unexpected development. "Is it safe to assume Walternate did this to you?"

Before she could answer, Peter let out another growl. "C'mon Walter, don't buy into her lies."

"Using your child's blood to activate the Machine makes more sense than any of the hypotheses we've come up with this far," Walter replied in a cold voice, staring at Peter in that way that made him look so much like his counterpart. "Once again, you are closing off your mind to any explanation that displeases you or makes you feel uncomfortable. You are too intelligent to be that obtuse, son."

After another heavy silence during which father and son glared at one another, Liv answered Walter's question, keeping her eyes on him. She addressed him directly, realizing that she may have an ally in him, and that persuading him was key.

"My abduction was…sketchy at best. Most of it happened in an old warehouse in Chinatown. They had me drugged for the most part, and their faces were masked, so I didn't get to see who these people were. We weren't able to find any evidence that would link what happened to me to the Secretary, but he certainly has the resources necessary to pull off that kind of drastic science experiment. And obviously, he had a motive. I mean, I always figured this was done to make sure I would go through with the pregnancy and deliver a healthy child, but now I understand why."

Walter peered at her. "What do you mean, deliver a healthy child?"

"VPE."

If the sound of Astrid's voice had startled Liv earlier, it was nothing compared to the surprise she felt hearing her Alternate speak. In all honesty, she'd almost forgotten she was in the room with them, considering she hadn't said a word since Liv's admission.

It actually took her a second to  _find_  Olivia. She hadn't moved away from the group, not really, but she'd managed to make herself…smaller, somehow, standing slightly in the shadows.

She was not looking at anyone, her eyes oddly vacant, like the rest of her face. Her voice was just as expressionless when she continued: "Viral Propagated Eclampsia. It's a genetic disorder that affects some women on the Other Side, one that affects pregnancy and that is almost undetectable unless you're looking for it. VPE carriers and their babies rarely survive delivery. Both Rachel and her daughter died from it. Over There." She added the last two words almost as an afterthought, as if for a moment, she'd forgotten she wasn't talking about her own sister and niece.

Liv was shaken by her Alternate's words, not simply because she'd mentioned the loss of Rachel and her baby. The fact that she  _knew_  so much was highly disturbing in itself. She'd known that Olivia had been given her memories, and that she'd lived her life for a few weeks, but witnessing her recollecting those memories as if they were her own was beyond eerie.

She also felt unexpectedly affected by the other woman's demeanor. Obviously, Olivia was in a bit of a shock, her eyes still lost in the distance, looking more sickly than pale. While Peter had spent the last few minutes fuming and raging, it looked like Olivia had been drained. She couldn't be blamed. As far as unpleasant news went, learning that your boyfriend had a child with an alternate version of yourself had to feel pretty shitty.

Now was not the time for her to start feeling guilty, though, not when her claim was finally being taken seriously.

"Yeah," she spoke instead, her eyes going back to Walter, and somehow, her voice sounded even lower than Olivia's. "Since my sister had VPE, I pretty much knew from the moment I found out I was pregnant that I probably had it, too. The Secretary had access to this information, about me and my family. And he must have realized that as soon as I learned I was a carrier, I would terminate the pregnancy. So he made sure I wouldn't."

"And they just…let you go?" Astrid asked, and she didn't sound doubtful anymore, more fascinated than anything else. "They abducted you, accelerated your pregnancy, delivered your child, and then they just let you leave?"

Liv couldn't help it. She scoffed at the idea, so ludicrous compared to how things had been. "Hardly," she said with a shake of her head. "They didn't let me go as much as I made them let me go. By the time I was ready to deliver, they thought I was too big and weak to fight, so they lowered their guard. Their mistake. I ended up giving birth a few blocks away, in a shop instead of in their creepy warehouse. I'm just glad I made it out on time, honestly, I'm not sure they would have let me keep my child if I hadn't. Come to think of it, they probably weren't planning on keeping me alive at all. All they wanted was Henry."

"Henry," Walter repeated. Liv didn't miss the fact that he didn't look so cold anymore, as if the thought of her baby –his grandchild, for all intents and purposes, made it impossible for him to remain stern.

"That's his name," Liv nodded. "I named him after a cabbie who helped me deliver him."

Olivia made an odd sound from where she stood, something like a sharp intake of breath. Before Liv could refocus on her, though, Walter spoke again.

"Do you have a picture of the boy?" He asked, and she didn't imagine the hopeful note in his voice.

Liv couldn't believe it. She'd expected them to tear her head off upon learning about her son's existence, especially considering Peter's animosity toward her this far, which had managed to spike when she'd first mentioned Henry. But the mood that had now taken over the lab was drastically different.

Sam Weiss seemed to be the only one completely detached, having obviously given up on trying to contribute in any way to what was going on. Olivia still stood slightly in the shadows, her posture rigid, her face pale; she remained quiet, as if detached from it all as well, but that detachment couldn't have been more different from Sam's. Astrid for her part looked astounded, while Walter remained expectant.

Liv was more interested in Peter's current state of mind, though, for obvious reasons. He looked like he had just taken another hard blow to the head. Most of his rage seemed to have left him, his ashy complexion almost matching Olivia's, who he was now staring at; she was not returning his gaze.

Focusing on Walter's question, Liv was about to say that no, she did  _not_  carry a picture of her son around with her. She loved her baby more than she'd loved anyone in this life, but she'd sworn to herself after his birth that she would not become one of these cooing, annoying mothers.

She remembered something, then, something she'd forgotten in the midst of everything that had happened from the moment she'd stepped into Liberty Island last night. There  _had_  been a picture of Henry on the dashboard of her car, left there by her mom the last time Olivia gave her a ride.

" _You should put it on your fridge_ ," the grandmother had cooed. " _He looks so adorable in this one_." Unlike her daughter, Marilyn Dunham had embraced every cliché possible regarding this new baby.

" _Mom, you think he looks adorable in every single picture you take of him_ ," Liv had chuckled. Inwardly, she quite agreed.

She'd left the picture in her car, for her to find again after she'd left Lincoln with Henry that night. There wasn't even anything special about it. It was one of the  _many_  generic shots Marilyn had taken of her grandson over the past three weeks. In this one, Henry was in his rocking chair, his fist clasped around one of the legs of the fluffy stuffed spider Charlie had brought over a couple weeks ago.

Liv remembered looking at that picture for far too long, before stuffing it in the back pocket of her pants, cooing be damn. She was about to do something potentially lethal, she was allowed to bring a piece of home along with her.

A piece of him.

She reached for that same back pocket, now, her fingers trembling slightly as she found the edge of the picture and pulled it out. She didn't look at his face; she couldn't. She held it out to Walter instead, who took it with fingers that were even shakier than hers, and soon, he was staring at her baby.

After a few seconds, a quivering smile lit up his face, and she realized how tearful his eyes had become when he raised them from the picture to look at her. "He's beautiful," he said, with undeniable awe in his voice.

What Liv felt then was the most positive feeling she'd experienced in the last twelve hours, suddenly fighting the prickles in her own eyes. "I think so, too," she said quietly, not trusting herself to say anything else.

Walter turned to Peter, then, holding out the picture for him to take.

Time stretched as Peter stood there, arms still crossed over his chest, his eyes cast down to the ground in obvious denial. Liv was beginning to think he would simply keep on ignoring his father's outstretched hand until the old man gave up, when Peter unfolded his arms.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he accepted the picture, looking down at his son for the first time.

Liv would have been incapable of naming the emotions that crossed over his face in that instant, but anger definitely wasn't one of them. He looked…overwhelmed. He stared and stared, looking more distraught by the second, soon swallowing convulsively. When he finally took his eyes away from the picture, he looked straight at her.

And she understood what he was telling her without having to say a single word.

_I have a son._

They broke eye contact only moments later, the sound of hurried footsteps going up the stairs breaking the silence that had taken over the room, swiftly followed by the door opening and closing.

Olivia had left the lab.

…

Peter stepped out into the hallway just in time to see one of the classrooms' doors closing, further down the hall, saving him the need to check every room in the building to find Olivia, like he'd planned on doing.

He still didn't feel entirely in charge of his own body as he walked towards the door, numbed by the events of the past fifteen minutes, although his heart was racing furiously inside his chest; to some extent, he was aware that he was shaking, not so faintly. He couldn't stop and give himself time to think about what he'd just learned, though, to think about his  _son_. His priority right now was Olivia.

Every time he thought about the look on her face, or how she'd been forced out of the lab, his entire being ached, in ways that had nothing to do with the aftereffects of the hard fall he'd experienced the previous day.

Peter didn't even knock before entering the classroom, fearing that she would ask him to stay away if he did. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to say to her, what he could possibly say to make this less damaging than it was, but he had to try.

When he came in, closing the door behind him, she did not ask him to leave her alone. She didn't say anything at all, not even looking at him. She'd walked to the desk, half-leaning on it. One of her hands was up to the back of her neck, tracing something he knew wasn't there anymore. It made his insides clench again, feeling like they had traveled a few months back in time, when Olivia felt too hurt and betrayed to be able to make eye contact with him, sometimes reaching up for that tattoo inked in the skin of her nape. The tattoo wasn't there anymore. She'd gotten it removed barely two weeks after they'd started 'seeing each other'.

The scar remained, though.

Peter felt helpless. They'd managed to get over the Switch and start anew. She'd then had to deal with having her body taken over by a dead man's soul, also accepting the fact that Peter had lied to her for weeks regarding the Shapeshifters he'd been killing. And although they hadn't had a chance to talk about it yet, he'd known she would understand why he hadn't told her about his intentions to try and step into the Machine.

But this…this might be the last straw. This might just be the one thing she cannot forgive him for, and how could he blame her?

As always, Olivia came to his rescue.

Letting go of her nape, gripping the edge of the desk instead, she looked up at him. Her eyes moved over his face, and he knew she was looking at the cuts and bruises, souvenirs from his failed interaction with the Machine.

When she finally locked eyes with him, she gave him one her sad, little smiles, cutting deeper into his chest.

"I was worried about you, you know," she said softly, almost in apology. "When you were in the hospital."

Peter swallowed hard, feeling more miserable by the second. "I know," he answered, his voice hoarse, because what else could he say?

She averted her eyes again, still smiling that heartbreaking smile of hers. "I would have stayed by your side if I could. It wasn't my choice to leave you."

He had to close his eyes for a second, unable to bear this, to listen to her trying to justify herself in any way when she hadn't done anything wrong, when he was the one supposed to ask for her forgiveness. The enormity of the situation hit him all over again, thinking of his son, his  _son_  for Christ's sake, making him feel lightheaded and weak. Once again, he was nauseous with guilt and shame, aching at the sight of the woman he loved looking defeated in front of him.

"Olivia," he chocked. "I am so sor-"

"Don't," she cut him off, looking at him again and shaking her head. Her voice remained soft, just like her eyes. Soft and haunted. "Please, don't do this again. The last thing I need from you is another apology, considering this is probably harder on you than it is on me. I'm well aware that you didn't…choose this, so if you're worried that I'm going to shut you out and refuse to talk to you because of it, don't. I won't."

He should have felt relieved, yet he didn't. He knew her well enough to know she wasn't lying, but her demeanor told another story altogether. She was in pain.

He took a few tentative steps closer to her, the lump in his throat making him hesitant to try and say anything. After a few seconds, her eyes left his, looking down, and she pointed at his hand.

"Let me see," she said.

At first, he was confused about what she was asking, until he looked down and realized he was still holding the picture of his son.

_His son._

His first urge was to refuse; nothing good could possibly come from this. The decision wasn't his to make, though. If she wanted to see the picture, he owed it to her to respect her choice.

Now standing in front of her, he held it out for her to see. Olivia didn't take it, staring at it, while he stared at her. He almost despised the fact that he knew her so well, knew the meaning of each change in her facial expression, no matter how small.

After what felt like the longest minute of his life, her face constricted slightly, and she briefly pinched her lips, her eyes too bright, now. "He  _is_  beautiful," she whispered, before looking away at last, closing her eyes.

He lowered his hand, somehow feeling worse than he had a minute ago. "Olivia…" he tried again, his voice barely louder than hers, but she shook her head, smiling painfully, and he remained silent.

Eventually, she reopened her eyes, using a knuckle to wipe off some of the wetness that had gathered at their corners, before meeting his gaze again.

"I've worked hard to come to term with what happened between you and her," she said, her voice low, "especially with how she'd taken a lot of our 'first' away from us." Sensing that he was about to protest to that, she cut him off again with another small shake of her head. "Don't deny it, Peter. It's a fact. A lot of what was a first for me wasn't a first for you. And like I said, I've come to term with it, focusing on how this was in the past, and we still had many 'firsts' ahead of us, moments she couldn't touch."

She had to stop again for a few seconds, eyes once again closed as she obviously tried to keep her emotions under control. When she eventually spoke again, she spoke to the floor.

"I thought about it, you know," she said, quietly. "I can't say it's been one of my most recurring fantasies, but I've thought about it, on good days. About having children with you." She looked at him. "And now, she's taken that from me, too."

Peter instinctively reached out for her face. When she recoiled away from his touch, just as instinctively,  _that_  hurt more than any word she could say. His fingers lingered near her face for a moment, before he let his hand fall.

To his surprise, she caught it in both her own, enveloping his fingers with hers, squeezing, and he almost sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tightening her hold, her gaze boring into his. "I meant what I said, I don't want to shut you out, it's just that I-"

She couldn't finish, but he didn't need her to. "I know," he said in a thick voice, leaning forward until his forehead touched hers, noses bumping. "I know…"

This time, when she let go of his hand and he brought it back to her face, she didn't move away, leaning into his palm as she reached for the back of his neck, and he felt her sigh against the skin of his wrist.

Ever since they'd gotten those phone calls at the break of dawn, what felt like days ago now, they'd barely had a moment alone with each other, nothing private enough to allow that kind of proximity and intimacy. Adding to that his brief coma and the return of her Alternate, topped with the recent news of his son's existence, this was long overdue.

He was grateful that she was letting him touch her at all, aware that this physicality between them was often more soothing than words.

But there were times when some words needed to be said.

"Olivia," he said softly, pulling away a little, just enough so that he could look into her eyes, one hand still on her cheek, hers on his nape. He let the picture soundlessly slip from his fingers, so that he could bring his other hand up to her face, his eyes firmly locked with hers. "I love you."

He said it simply, decisively, unquestionably. He said it as if he'd said it a thousand times before; in a way, he felt like he had. He knew she loved him back, he didn't need to hear the words to confirm it.

"I've loved you for a long time," he said, "and it has led me to make some stupid decisions along the way. I wish there was a way for me to fix this, to make it all go away, but I can't. We both know we can't just pretend it isn't real." She nodded in his hands. "I can't even begin to process what this boy's existence means, to me, to you, or to us, but what I know is what it doesn't mean. It doesn't mean that you've lost anything from me. When you came to me, that night back in February, and gave us another chance, it was with this idea that we wanted the same thing, a life together. It's still what I want, no matter what's going on outside. Every 'first' we had, they were 'firsts' I was having with  _you_ , not anyone else. The same applies for the children we may have, the children I hope we'll have someday, because I think about it, too. I love you. Whatever happens next, we're in this together. Okay?"

She nodded in his hands again. "Okay," she whispered, and he used his thumb to brush off a rolling tear, soon resting his forehead against hers again, just as she added: "And for what it's worth, I love you, too."

He smiled. "Yeah, I know."

...

Olivia was officially  _done_  with this day.

She didn't care that giving up was against her nature and everything she believed in. Right now, she simply had enough. When she'd entered that classroom, all she'd wanted was to be left alone, crumbling universes or not; she'd reached her breaking point.

She only felt slightly better now, with Peter's forehead against hers, both his hands entrapping her face, having just been told what she'd known for quite some time –that he loved her. As always, his little speech had managed to soothe some of her doubts and fears, and the feel of him against her was quieting voices no words would ever be able to reach.

She was still overwhelmed, though, no matter what he said, or what he promised her. All she had to do was open her eyes and see that shimmer that still enveloped them both, close as they were, irrefutable proof that her emotions were getting the best of her.

Because s _he_  was still out there, only a few rooms away, having a whole new power over him, now, in the form of a son.

Her thinking was irrational, but she couldn't help it. As always, Peter was drawing the most vulnerable side of her out, and right now, that vulnerability was tightly entangled with that all too familiar feeling of inadequacy, of being unable to compete with her Alternate.

He was  _there_ , though, his breath upon her face, his warm palms on her skin, and when Olivia moved her arms to encircle him, he was solid and real. Hers.

Needing to prove it to herself as much as to him, she kept on moving, pushing herself off the desk and straightening up to lean fully into him instead, seeking him. They'd been together long enough for him to recognize the signs, seeking her back, and when he kissed her, she felt in his kiss what he had just said with words.

She reveled in the feel and taste of him, in the synchronicity of their movements, even the smallest ones, both tender and starved. Feeling him respond so eagerly to her only increased her need to claim him, to claim him the way she'd claimed him so many times before. She became more demanding in the way she kissed him, in the way she moved, one of her hands soon slipping under his shirt. When she raked her nails across his lower back, she felt the strong shivers that ran under his skin, causing him to push her against the desk, pressing his hips to hers.

But he was reaching for her hand, then, extracting it from under his shirt, putting an end to their kissing as well. They stared at each other for a moment, their breathing loud, scorching, the look in his eyes making it clear he knew exactly what she wanted from him, and that it wouldn't be hard for her to make him cave in.

"Hey," he said softly, bringing one of his hands back to her flushed cheek instead, tilting his head to the side. "I think I understand what you're trying to do but...you have nothing to prove."

For a moment, she almost denied it, her lust quickly turning into embarrassment. But his eyes were soft and kind, the way they often were; she knew there was no point in lying. And so she closed her eyes, sighing as she leaned into him, resting her forehead against his chest, focusing on the feel of his fingers in her hair, his other arm soon circling her waist.

They let time pass for a while, although she knew he was as aware as her of every second that went by. Which was why she eventually pulled away from him, meeting his eyes again.

"I guess we need to get back in there," she said, and he nodded, looking as thrilled as her at the prospect of dealing with the end of the world.

She reluctantly let go of him, and as he stepped back, her eyes fell on the picture on the ground. She bent down to pick it up, handing it back to him without looking at it again. The look they exchanged as he took it from her made it clear they both knew they'll have to have a serious discussion about this at some point, but not now.

First, they had a couple of universes to save.

They held hands all the way back to the lab, more for comfort and support than as a sign of affection.  _We're in this together_ , he had told her, and as they approached the door, that's what she repeated to herself. As they stopped briefly before entering the lab, Peter leaned in again, pressing a kiss to her forehead. They exchanged one more look, and he opened the door.

The last thing Olivia wanted to do was look at her Alternate, but she was of course the first person her eyes found as they walked to the stairs. It would have been hard to miss her, given the way she was pacing the lab, a hand on her hip, chewing on her lip. She looked like she was ready to lose her mind, and despite herself, Olivia couldn't help but empathize. The thought of that child was too enormous for her to properly assimilate it just yet, besides the fact that it made her feel miserable, but she knew Liv's distress was real.

Right now, she wasn't trying to mess with them anymore, all she wanted was to make sure her son was safe, and  _that_  was something Olivia could respect. In retrospect, she now understood better why her Alternate had come back here in the first place. She hadn't said so, but what mother wouldn't try everything in her power to insure her child's world wouldn't be destroyed?

It didn't make her any more likable, though.

When Liv heard them come in, she briefly stopped her pacing and looked up at Peter, who didn't meet her gaze. Looking around, Olivia frowned, realizing that only Liv and Sam were there, Sam now eating another doughnut, back to his reading.

"Where are the others?" Olivia asked him, but he just shrugged, not even looking up.

"In the office," Liv answered instead. "Something else happened in there, apparently."

Olivia looked at her, their eyes meeting. Liv at least had the decency to avert her eyes quickly enough. Just as they came down the steps, both Walter and Astrid emerged from the office again. Even before he opened his mouth, Olivia knew Walter was thrilled by whatever had happened.

"Ah, just in time!" He exclaimed. "Show them, Aster."

But Astrid was already 'on it', holding out a piece of paper to Olivia, who took it, frowning. She was now looking at the lines that covered it. It was the same sentence, repeating itself over and over again.

_Be a better man than your father._

Olivia looked back up at Astrid. "It…worked?"

Astrid nodded. "I heard the typewriter going only a couple of minutes ago. I don't know what happened, but something obviously triggered it."

Olivia shared a brief look with Peter, feeling herself blush faintly. Unfortunately, Walter didn't miss the exchange. "Of course," he said, pointing both his fingers at them, nodding approvingly. "Peter's proximity. It's always been your strongest catalyst."

"What does this mean, exactly," Olivia demanded, annoyed by the fact that she still felt flustered.

"Well, it means that your feelings for him are quite profound, so whenever the two of you touch, your abilities are-"

"Not  _that_ , Walter," she cut him off sternly, distinctively hearing Liv scoff. "What does  _this_  mean?" she repeated, brandishing the paper.

"Oh, that," he said. "It means you are ready to turn off the other Machine, using ours, which will allow Peter to step into it."

" _No_."

The word almost boomed in the lab, categorical and firm. They all turned to look at Liv, who did not seem remotely amused anymore.

She shook her head. "There's no way you're turning that thing off from here while I still have no idea where Henry is. The Secretary will not back down and you know it. He will turn it back on, even if it means using his grandchild again, and I will certainly not stand there and do nothing while I watch you destroy my universe."

"Do you really think you could stop us?" Peter asked, obviously unable to keep himself from rebutting absolutely everything this woman said.

There was a short but heavy pause, before Liv started walking to him, and she looked like she was ready to give them hell trying. "Don't you  _dare_  question whether or not I'm ready to fight each and every single one of you if it means protecting my son," she almost hissed, actually poking him hard in the chest at the word 'dare'. "Maybe you don't have it in you to care if he lives or dies, and I've never been delusional enough to hope that you might give a damn, but I thought you'd at least be human enough to realize a three weeks old baby shouldn't be used in  _your_  place to kill a few billions people."

On these words, she grabbed at his hand, almost tearing the picture from his fingers, before walking away from the group. A whistle soon broke the silence.

"You seriously all need to relax a little," Sam noted.

"Oh, shut up," both Olivias snapped.

This was somehow so ridiculous, it made the tension go down a notch.

"Alright," Olivia said firmly, raising both her hands, feeling restless and more than ready to put an end to this freak show. "Let's discuss options, then, because we're running out of time. The Machine  _needs_  to be stopped, one way or another."

Eventually, Walter spoke, voicing the thought that was undoubtedly starting to dawn on everyone. "The only other way for you to turn off the Machine is to do it from Over There," he said, sternly. "For that, you will need to cross over again."

In a part of her mind, Olivia had known this would come. She'd known the moment she realized Liv was right, and that they couldn't simply do it from this side. Realistically, the only way for them to put an end to this once and for all was to  _talk_  to the Secretary.

Knowing it didn't make this any easier, and her chest wasn't the only thing that was constricting at the thought; Olivia felt like her entire being was slowly being squeezed, a sensation not unlike the one she'd felt repeatedly whenever she'd traveled between their worlds. And now, she was being asked to go back there, back to the Other Side, to this place and this man she had escaped against all odds less than six months ago.

A place and a man who, among other things, had tried very hard to kill her.

But in the matter of universal wars and universe-crossing, her life never mattered much.

"Then we cross over," she said.


	8. Chapter Seven - Back to Where You've Already Been

"Then we cross over."

Disbelief was the first thing Peter felt upon hearing Olivia's words.

When a couple of seconds passed and he realized she  _meant_ it, disbelief was replaced by something close to indignation, more than a little offended at the thought.

There was no way in  _hell_  he was going to let her go back there.

"That is out of the question," he said before anyone else could, his voice resembling a growl. He didn't even look at her as he spoke, staring at the man who had dared suggesting it, his resentment having flared up again. "Walter, you cannot ask her to go back to the Other Side."

"Peter," Olivia interrupted him at once, not unkindly, but firmly.

When he met her eyes, she shook her head. She was getting paler by the second, but the look on her face was obstinate; he knew that look. It meant her mind was set, and nothing anyone could say would make a damn difference.

"It's not like we have a choice," she said, quietly. "And to be honest, I think you need to come, too. You're probably the only person who can reason with the Secretary. This war has gone on for far too long, and for all the wrong reasons. It's time we try and make peace with them, and the only way to do that is through your Father."

"He tried to  _kill_  you," Peter countered, once again incensed. "He tortured you, kept you in a confinement cell for weeks, brainwashed you, and then tried to cut you open so that he could –"

" _Don't_ ," Olivia stopped him again, her voice cracking a little as he face scrunched up in obvious discomfort, eyes closed. When she shuddered, the tremors were so strong that everyone must have seen them.

She soon reopened her eyes, and met his gaze dead-on, shaking her head. Despite her pale skin and obvious anxiety, her frustration was unmistakable.

"This goes way beyond me, or what was done to me, and you know it." Her voice and demeanor became nothing short of fierce as she added: "And this thing you keep on doing, turning me into a victim just so you can make a point? It stops right now."

Holding her gaze and seeing the hurt and disappointment in her eyes, Peter swallowed hard. Olivia had mentioned some of what had happened to her Over There in the report she wrote after coming back, but most of what he'd said came from private conversations they had, painful admissions she'd revealed to him and him alone.

He had no right to use it against her the way he had, making her look more helpless than she'd ever been, betraying her trust in the process.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice quivering slightly, his anger replaced by shame.

Olivia glared at him for a few more seconds, before her face softened. She remained grave, though, nothing in this situation warranting a smile of any kind. "This is not a decision I'm making lightly. The Other Side is the last place I want to be."

Everything in her body language backed up her words; she looked more sickly than she had at any point today.

"Liv's right, though," she continued. "We can't simply turn off the Machine from here, and do to them what they're trying to do to us." After taking another steadying breath, she added: "You need to think about your son."

With those words, they all knew she'd won. Nothing Peter could say would counter that. The fact alone that  _she_  was labelling the child's safety as a priority was both humbling and humiliating. For all intents and purposes, the boy's existence was more hurtful to her than it was to him, considering how the boy had come to be.

Yet there she was, putting him first, something Peter had failed to do so far.

"Thank you."

Liv's words were quiet, but sincere.

Olivia looked at her. "I'm not doing this for you," she said.

"I know," Liv tilted her head. "Thank you anyway."

Peter closed his eyes, rubbing his sore neck, having no other choice but to admit he was outnumbered. He did not approve of this, but he was not foolish enough to try going against  _two_  Olivia Dunham.

"All right then!" Walter exclaimed with too much enthusiasm, thrilled by the various challenges that still stood in their way. "This means we have work to do. Making all three of you cross over is going to require some logistic."

" _How_  are you expecting us to cross over, exactly?" Olivia asked, and Peter loathed seeing all these signs of distress on her, signs that were like booming sirens to him.

She seemed ready to crawl out of her skin, her complexion pale, almost waxy, a thin layer of perspiration covering her forehead. Although she was tensed and immobile, arms crossed and holding on to her elbows in a death grip, she swayed on the spot, almost imperceptibly.

Her expression was set, though, and he knew no amount of arguing or threatening would change her stubborn mind.

"I'm afraid the burden once again falls on you, dear," Walter answered, having the decency to sound apologetic.

Olivia shook her head, swaying a bit more noticeably. "There's no way I can make several of us cross over on my own. The last time I successfully traveled between universes, it was just me, and I had to be drugged and in the tank. Before that, we did it as a group, with the other Cortexiphan subjects, something we obviously can't do anymore."

"Once again, you underestimate yourself," Walter said, not unkindly. "For one thing, you seem to forget that you will be doing it with Peter."

She didn't look at Peter, her entire focus on Walter. "And...?"

"Well, his proximity alone, not to mention the emotional turmoil you will be experiencing at the time, means that an extra dose of Cortexiphan won't be necessary. Not for you, in any case."

Peter finally looked away from Olivia's shaky form to glare at his father. "What do you mean by that?" He demanded.

"Olivia's alternate," Walter explained, pointing at Liv. "I have come up with a theory."

"Uh, what theory?" Liv asked, not even trying to conceal her distrust.

"One that involves Cortexiphan, and the fact that you may be able to act as a booster to Olivia in the process of crossing over."

"This doesn't make any sense," Olivia responded, her frustration bringing some colors back to her cheeks. "Are you saying she could do what I do?"

"Of course not," Walter said, as if offended by the suggestion. "Your abilities are what they are because the chemicals have been bonded to your neurons since early childhood, even if they were dormant for most of your life. However, the fact that she could see the glimmer proves that she  _is_  responsive to your Cortexiphan, when any other adult would have died from it. The tests I have run on her blood samples also lead me to believe that today might not have been the first time she was exposed to it."

There was a pause, as they took his words in.

"You mean...my abduction?" Liv asked, unsure.

"Precisely," he said, and as Peter grunted in disbelief, Walter raised a hand, "No, no, hear me out," he continued. "We know Walternate obtained samples of Olivia's Cortexiphan during her time Over There, and it is safe to assume he's been replicating it and testing it on subjects, yes?"

"Then he would have found out that it's lethal to adults," Peter countered him. "If he went to that much trouble to make sure the child was born, why would he put her at risk by injecting her with it?"

Before Walter could answer, Olivia did it for him. "That's assuming it was Walternate's idea. Maybe he had nothing to do with it at all."

Peter looked at her; what little color she'd regained a minute ago was already gone, and again, he had to fight the urge to move closer to her. "What do you mean?"

"Brandon?" she suggested, shrugging a shoulder with a small, uncomfortable smile. Her efforts to make this sound trivial made it obvious it was anything but. "The Brandon Fayette from their side? He was the one in charge of every experiment they conducted on...on anything regarding my abilities."

"Yes, of course!" Walter exclaimed, once more delighted, as usual oblivious to Olivia's quiet distress. "This is a bit far stretched, of course, given our lack of concrete evidence, but he would have known the child would be protected from the drugs in utero, and if we assume that he didn't care about the mother's survival, we can hypothesize that he  _did_  use Cortexiphan on her. Especially if he found out about its regenerative properties. Even if it were to eventually kill Miss Dunham here, taking into account the metabolic rate of absorption and the rate of the acceleration, the baby would have been born safely before she died."

"That's great, Walter," Liv commented, more than a little sardonically. "But what are you saying exactly, that I could develop the same abilities?"

"I am quite certain I already answered that question," Walter replied sternly, peering at her. "No. You will never develop Olivia's abilities. Your identical genotype merely means that the drug isn't fatal to you, and that it does heal you to some extent. By injecting you with Cortexiphan before she attempts to cross over with you and Peter, however, Olivia could...harness your energy, for lack of better word. This, combined with Peter's proximity, should allow the three of you to cross over successfully."

"This is  _extremely_  far stretched," Peter felt the need to point out. "Not to mention possibly lethal." Everything in him still screamed in protest at the idea of putting Olivia through this, but he knew better than to try changing her mind at this point.

"If we don't do anything, we will all be dead in a matter of days," Walter said, echoing words Peter had spoken twenty-four hours ago.

_If we do nothing, we're all gonna die._

When Walter focused his cold gaze on Olivia, she shuddered under his stare. But there was only resolve in her voice when she said:

"Then we try."

…

Less than an hour later, they were in the air, on their way to New York.

The energy that habited the small jet was less than pleasant. It did not help that the plane kept on being shaken with rather violent tremors every time a lightning strike zapped too close.

The fact that Walter was attempting to perform minor surgery on her despite the turbulences did nothing to soothe Liv's mind. He'd gone as far as to strap her arm to the armrest, in the hope that he wouldn't slice off some of her nerves or something.

"You sure you don't want to wait until we touch down?" She asked. She knew she should look away from what he was doing, but she was unable  _not_  to stare.

Her arm had been numbed from her elbow to the tip of her fingers –he'd assured her the anesthesia would wear off by the time they were ready to leave. She was glad it was working at the moment, though, as he'd already given her skin and muscles a few slices of his scalpel.

"The time is of the essence," he replied distractedly, probing inside the wound, searching for her tracker. She really should look away.

Across from her, Olivia stared, too, with the same kind of disgusted fascination.

Astrid offered them a welcome distraction when she cleared her throat across the aisle, and everybody's focus changed – except Walter's.

"I've had a thought," she explained. "Since Liberty Island is out of the question, unless you want to be arrested theS moment you appear, I've been thinking about what would be the most convenient place for you three to cross over. Then, there's the problem with soft spots. From the data Walter and I collected, it seems that activating both Machines have messed that up, too. It would be pretty much impossible to detect a soft spot, now. Unless we create our own."

"Go on," Walter said, having completely disregarded Liv's open wound to look at his assistant, his interest piqued.

"Remember that case we had a couple of months ago in New York, with that old lady who'd lost her husband and refused to let him go?"

Liv did  _not_  imagine the way both Olivia and Peter shifted in their seats, but they all nodded.

"That's when we theorized emotions could actually play a role in how thick or thin the fabric between our universes was," Astrid continued. "I believe we can use that to our advantage, tonight."

"How?" Olivia asked.

"I think we need to go to Chinatown."

…

"This is  _insane_ ," Liv said for what might be the fifth time since Astrid's suggestion, half an hour ago.

They had found the shop in which she had given birth to her son a few weeks ago, the place now empty, FBI raids oblige.

"This is actually quite brilliant," Walter said, beaming with pride at Astrid, and Olivia thought the young woman would have looked more pleased with herself if the world hadn't been ending around them.

"I just don't get how being here is gonna make a difference. This place doesn't mean anything to  _her_ ," Liv said, "and she's the one who's going to do most of the work."

"It means a lot to you, though, doesn't it?" Walter asked.

"Well, yeah," Liv said. She looked uncomfortable being here, which was the point, proving that Astrid's idea might just work. "It was a rather intense night for me."

"Good!" Walter exclaimed. "The more intense the connection, the thinner the fabric between our two worlds should be."

Broyles, who had come closer, gave Olivia a stern look, one she'd seen many times before. She moved to join him. "I don't think this is a good idea," he felt the need to tell her.

Olivia smiled a tired, resigned smile. "We never have much of a choice though, do we?"

"The last time you crossed over, you had some sort of stroke," Broyles pointed out, and Olivia met Peter's eyes, who stood further away in the room, arms crossed, scowling away.

She had no doubt he would be arguing this himself, if she hadn't asked him to stop.

"I have to try," Olivia said, looking back at Broyles. She was reminded of his counterpart, who had looked just as conflicted on their last few interactions. "I need to honor the promise I made, Over There," she continued, quietly. "Both our worlds can and  _will_  be healed. I know this is the way."

After a long silence, Broyles nodded, "Alright," he said, having long ago learned to trust her instincts. "Be careful." Then, to Peter. "And make sure she comes home, this time."

Olivia didn't know if this was a joke or a true warning; either way, Peter did not take it well.

By the time she'd walked to him, his jaw was set so tight she was surprised she didn't hear his teeth grinding.

She tilted her head, trying to get him to meet her eyes. "C'mon, cheer up," she said. "We're about to do something possibly heroic. Plus, there's excitement."

He didn't crack a smile.

She sighed, putting both her hands on his crossed arms, giving them a squeeze. "Peter," she said more quietly. "I know that you don't approve, and that you're worried, but there's no other way. I need you to help me do this. I can't do it alone."

There he was, the man she loved, resurfacing from beneath his cold, sullen mask.

He let it fall away as he sighed, briefly closing his eyes. When he reopened them, he looked bare, and just as afraid as she felt. He unfolded his arms, soon bringing his hands up as she held on to his forearms, cupping her face with a tenderness that was all his.

"You're not alone," he said softly, as his forehead touched hers, and she felt his words deep in her bones. "Not this time."

…

"You may experience a bit of a head rush," Walter told her as he extracted yet another needle from her arm.

"I might also die, so I guess it wouldn't be the worst of it," Liv found herself joking without any humor, flexing her arm, wriggling her fingers tentatively.

As promised, she'd regained most feelings in the recently numbed area, the place where the Fringe Division tracker used to be now throbbing faintly under the bandage.

Liv didn't experience any dizziness, but less than a minute had passed before everything around her started to shimmer softly, an unnecessary reminder of how frightened she was.

She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on her breathing, on the knowledge that she would be home, soon. "So, what do you want me to do?" She asked Walter, who now glimmered quite strongly.

"Think back to what happened in this shop, the night you gave birth. Try and picture yourself not here, but  _There_. Olivia will do the rest." Then, to Astrid. "I think we are about ready, where are they?"

Astrid pointed a shiny finger, indicating a spot further in the room.

There they were indeed, too far for Liv to hear what they were saying, but words were not needed to sense the intensity of the moment. Peter did not shimmer at all, making him stand out even more…except for the parts of him that were basking in  _her_  light.

His hands were on her face, his forehead resting upon hers, and against her better judgment, Liv found herself thinking back to the last time his fingers had cupped her cheek, before she'd escaped this side.

On that day, in the train station, he had been  _livid_ , consumed with anger and pain, wishing her suffering and even death, that much she had been certain of. But back when her cover was safe, when he was loving  _her_ , she had seen variances of this look; of this gentleness and his devotion.

She'd felt it in his touch.

This side of him had been…intoxicating, slowly causing the line between pretense and reality to blur a little more each day.

_Are you in love with him…the father?_

Liv was not in love with him, no. But she had fallen deep enough into that rabbit hole to cause something in her to ache at the sight of this real intimacy.

If all of this did come down to 'which Olivia' Peter would choose, her universe didn't stand a chance.

Next to her, Walter cleared his throat, loudly, succeeding in getting the two lovebirds' attention.

"We're ready," Walter said, with a barely concealed smile.

They let go of each other, Olivia blushing a little as they walked back to the group. Father and son shared a look and a nod, another wordless exchange that spoke volumes.

"All right, Walter," Olivia said. "How do I do this? How do I make all three of us cross over?"

"You need to make a triangle of sort. I think it will work best if you hold hands."

Olivia pursed her lips. "I hope you're joking."

"I am not," he said. "The last time, we made a circle, with me in the middle. You didn't need contact because all four of you were Cortexiphan subjects. In this case, you need a physical bond, a connection, in order to bring them with you. A group hug would be most efficient and would increase your chances of success, but given the history, holding hands might be slightly less uncomfortable."

"Now you're joking," Liv said, and Walter actually winked at her.

Rather unwillingly, they took their positions; more than a little eager to leave, Liv was first to extend her hands, holding them out, only to huff a second later, when none of them moved.

"Oh,  _please_ ," Liv said, exasperated. "Let's just get this over with."

With blunt reluctance, both Peter and Olivia conceded, and soon, the three of them were holding hands. This was pretty awkward alright, but Walter didn't give them time to focus on it.

"Very well, close your eyes, all three of you," he said. His tone had dropped an octave, his voice now much lower, almost soothing. "Miss Dunham, I want you to focus your thoughts on that night, and on how you felt. Olivia, you know what to do. You know what lies right beyond the veil, you know this other world. That's where you need to be."

Liv forced herself to breathe deep, now blocking out Walter's voice as best as she could, if not for the calming musicality of his tone, and thought back to Henry's birth.

Remembering the pain was difficult, if not impossible. But she remembered the fear, how frightened she'd felt, lying on this floor, convinced that she was about to die.

And she'd feared for her baby's life almost more than for her own, which hadn't made any sense. She hadn't been able to comprehend what was happening, how she could be giving  _birth_  when hours ago, she'd only been ten weeks pregnant.

But she had felt the baby move, as she ran barefoot through the streets of Chinatown, felt it shift beneath her palm and within herself, felt  _him_  kick. And no matter how terrified she'd been, she knew then that she had to protect him.

He was hers to protect.

_Promise me you'll save the baby._

Lincoln had tried so hard to protect  _her_ , as he held her through it all. He'd promised, crying for her, watching her die.

_I love you._

"Olivia!"

She reopened her eyes, suddenly aware that she wasn't holding anyone's hand anymore. That thought had barely crossed her mind that her legs were giving up, all energy drained of out of her, and she crumpled to the floor.

But Peter hadn't called out for her.

While Liv was on her hands and knees, breathing through her dizziness, her alternate was out for the count, Peter checking her vitals. Liv shook her head to clear it, soon forcing herself to straighten up slightly, looking around. The fact that there was no one else but them in sight further confirmed their success.

She knew what would happen next. She looked at her watch, forgetting yet again that it was broken.

"We need to go," Liv said, hoarsely.

"Olivia needs help!" Peter almost shouted the words at her, his hands still on the unconscious woman.

"No, you don't get it," Liv said as she managed to get back on her feet, her every limb shaking, but her legs somehow supported her weight. "We just created a breach. The Fringe Division is going to be here within minutes. Trust me, it's my job, I know how fast they can send a team onsite. We  _need_  to get away from this place."

Lincoln and Charlie might be part of that team, which would play to their advantage, but she couldn't take that gamble.

The safest thing to do was to vacate the site as quickly as possible and make contact with them once they were in the clear. All she wanted to do was call her mother, insure that Lincoln had brought her son to her, as she'd asked him to do, but they needed to move, fast.

Peter seemed to come to his senses at last, as if just now processing what she'd said. He was pale and a bit shaky, but she couldn't say for sure that their crossover was the cause of it; Olivia still hadn't regained consciousness.

Liv was about to offer him help to get her up when he slipped his arms under her, and with impressive strength, stood up, Olivia a dead weight in his arms.

"Get us out of here," he grunted.

Liv didn't hesitate, leading the way to the back of the store. She had no idea what they would find, but she knew most places had a backdoor, since there was no way they were leaving through the front entrance.

Sure enough, they found the door. "It's locked," she said.

"Not for long," Peter breathed out. "Move." She did, just in time, too, as he launched himself forward, using all of his weight, plus Olivia's, and kicked at the handle. The door exploded off its hinges.

They didn't lose any more time, stepping into the back alley. "Where?" He demanded.

"It doesn't matter," Liv said, now aware of the fast approaching sound of familiar sirens in the distance. "Let's just get away."

As they did, she resisted her urge to run; Peter might be physically strong, he wouldn't be able to keep up if she did. All things considered, they did move fast through the deserted back alleys.

"Stop," he said after a while, breathless. "She's coming to."

He didn't wait for her approval and soon fell to his knees, Olivia stirring against him.

They should be far enough from the shop, now, but the further the better. Liv watched them for a few seconds, trying to catch her breath as she paced.

Olivia opened her eyes, hazily looking up. "Hey, Peter…" she whispered, almost dreamily, and Peter hugged her to him.

Liv decided this was her cue, shifting away to give them some 'privacy', while she grabbed for her ear cuff in her pocket, clipping it back to her ear.

 _You have 26 messages_ , the hollow voice told her.

"Shit," Liv breathed out. "Call Mom," she ordered; she had no time to listen to 26 messages, although such a high number sure made her dread what she was going to find out.

Marilyn picked up before the first ring. "Olivia, thank god," she exclaimed. "Where have you been, I've tried contacting you all day!"

"It's complicated, Mom," she said, pacing more and more apprehensively now. "I just need to know Henry's with you, and that he's okay."

Her mom let out a sound that froze her insides, like a strangled sob. "Oh Olive," she managed to say.

"Mom, what happened?" But on the other line, her mom was too busy crying. "Mom, calm down,  _please,_  just tell me what happened, where's Henry? Lincoln was supposed to bring him over this morning."

Truth was, she felt like she might soon find herself on the ground again, all of her limbs tingling, fear squeezing her heart and constricting her chest.

"He did," Marilyn said, trying to control herself. "He came over just after dawn. He said you were on a mission, that you'd told him to bring Henry to me if you weren't back by morning. He said he wanted to go after you, but that he had made you a promise, and that he'd stay with us. And then…"

"Then  _what_?" she almost shouted.

"The Secretary, Olivia. He…he came to the house, with half a dozen men. Lincoln tried to stop them, but there were too many of them, they…Oh Liv, he took the baby, I am so sorry, there was nothing I could do."

…

Olivia had somehow forgotten how  _miserable_  crossing over made her feel.

She was conscious again, that much was true, but she felt…disconnected, and more than a little nauseous. She forced herself to put all of her focus on Peter, on the feel of his arms around her, the smell of him filling up her lungs with every breath she took, her face pressed to his chest.

They'd been there before, him holding her close as she slowly reconnected with reality, tethering her to this world.

Although…was it still  _this_  world?

When the worst of her nausea passed and the ache in her limbs became more acute, she carefully raised her head from his chest, looking at their surroundings. They had left the shop.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice shaky, and her throat too dry, not yet sounding like herself.

"You did it," Peter said. "We crossed over."

They both turned their heads, then, startled by Liv's voice, loud and panicked.

"Mom, calm down,  _please,_  just tell me what happened, where's Henry? Lincoln was supposed to bring him over this morning." There was a pause, followed by: "Then  _what_?" She was almost shouting.

Whatever had happened, it was not good. Liv wasn't pacing anymore, but moving in distressed circles with a hand to her face, to her hair, then back to her face, struggling to keep herself together.

Olivia tried straightening up against Peter, but her body remained uncooperative for the most part, her muscles throbbing yet loose. "Easy," he whispered as he helped her sit up, but Olivia's focus had changed, her eyes on her alternate.

"Okay," Liv was saying. "Mom, listen.  _Mom_. It's...it will be okay. I think I know where he took him. I just need to…where's Lincoln, now?" She listened, and what little color had been left on her face disappeared completely. "God," she breathed out, before nodding. "Mom, I have to go, I have to call Charlie, he's the only one who can help me. I will get Henry back. I'll get him back."

She pressed the earpiece to hang up, immediately giving the device another command. "Call Charlie Francis." Her voice was hoarse, and she brought a hand back to her face, swiftly wiping off the few trails that had ran down her cheeks.

Peter helped Olivia get back on her feet. He was supporting most of her weight, her legs wobbly and weak.

"Charlie, thank God," Liv said. "I just came back. I know, I know, I talked to my mom. Is Lincoln…" she let out a sound of relief. "Really? Yeah, yeah. We'll have to act fast. Listen, Charlie, I didn't come back alone. We need help getting to you. We're in Chinatown, and I can't use my ShowMe anymore. Okay. Yeah, okay." She moved away, going to the street's intersection to give Charlie their location. "Thank you, Charlie. You too."

When she came back to them, she was extremely pale, looking both crazed and panicked.

"Charlie's sending someone over to pick us up, he and Lincoln are staying at some kind of safehouse, we can decide on a plan of action there."

"Listen," Peter tried, clumsily, as there was no point in pretending they hadn't heard her conversations.

"Don't," Liv said with a shake of her head, breathing hard. "I can't say I'm surprised, this is why I needed to come back. We're here now, so the only thing we can do is keep moving and come up with a way to get Henry back, and to stop the Secretary from destroying any of our universes."

When Peter nodded, Olivia felt like they'd finally reached some kind of truce.

"You okay?" Liv asked her.

"I'm standing," she answered, her tone more amicable than it had been since their very first meeting, and Liv nodded.

"Let's move, then," she said, "We need to get to the main street."

They did move, slowly, Olivia advancing with Peter's help as she still fought off her nausea. Paranoia was sneaking in as well – a foreseeable reaction. The hour was late, and although no part of New York City ever emptied completely, the street they were now on was not heavily populated; she kept on telling herself that anyone seeing them would think them twins, not alternate versions of each other.

She could not shake off her growing panic, though, and the more she focused on their surroundings, the more aware she became of all these details that made it obvious they were indeed not in her world anymore, from the ads on the walls and vehicles, to the way all these late wanderers dressed. Even the quality of the air was different.

There was no denying it: she was back Over There.

Before long, a familiar and oppressing feeling of homesickness was resurfacing, as if it had never left.

As if  _she_ had never left at all.

Olivia leaned heavily against Peter, instinctively seeking his warmth. She felt sickly and weak, her heart thumping in her chest, her breathing too shallow. Sensing her agitation, he tightened his hold on her, pressing his lips to the top of her head, his breathing slow and reassuring against her hair.

 _You're not alone, not this time,_ he reminded her without a single word _._

When a yellow cab stopped at the curve, a few feet away from where they stood, she didn't think much of it…until the driver stepped out, and she was greeted by another familiar sight.

Olivia looked straight into Henry Higgins' eyes, who seemed to be once again questioning his sanity.


End file.
